


Book of the Dragonborn I: No Honour Among Thieves

by NightingaleTrash



Series: Book of the Dragonborn [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, Thieves Guild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4884436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightingaleTrash/pseuds/NightingaleTrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rules of the Thieves Guild are simple enough: do what you're told, when you're told. Keep you blade clean and above all, don't get caught. But when an old enemy emerges, it's up to Valkari to uncover the truth behind the guild's poor fortunes. And the truth within the truth may be even worse than she realises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All The Glitters is Goldenglow

_1 Frostfall 4E191_

Riften’s market square was a bustling hub of trade as shoppers examined the wares of the merchants – groceries, jewellery, even arms and armour for those so inclined. With so many people bustling to and fro it was easy enough to miss the hand slipping into a pocket and pulling out a purse of coins. It certainly made Valkari’s life much easier when everyone was so unaware, concentrating solely on navigating the crowds and worrying about when their next payment was due to arrive. No one was going to pay attention to the scrawny red haired adolescent weaving her way through the crowd.

The Loredas morning market was the perfect time to make some quick coin Brynjolf had always said. Be it from picking pockets or swindling shoppers, there was always a prize to be found, so long as the guards saw nothing.

Soon enough, Valkari was satisfied with her takings for the morning and sloped back towards Brynjolf’s stand as he peddled his usual rubbish. Today’s product: Wisp Essence. In reality, crushed Nirnroot mixed with water. Not that anyone else had to know. After all, when was a decent thief ever honest?

The older nord looked down as Valkari appeared from the crowd, raising a brow quizzically. She grinned and briefly flashed the contents of her pack and he returned the smile.

“Well done my wee lass,” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

Valkari sighed. “I'm fifteen, Pa. When are you going to stop calling me that?”

“When you grow taller,” he chuckled as an elderly woman inspected one of the vials of ‘Wisp Essence’. “I’m surprised more don’t take you for a breton.”

“Bretons have magic,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. Valkari watched as Brynjolf gladly took the woman’s coin as she walked away, tucking the vial into her bag. Brynjolf was good at using his words, swaying people with his charm and charisma. He’d scammed the poor sods of the city a hundred times over, yet they still lapped it up every time he brought something new to the table. Idiots.

But for Valkari, cons and scams were perhaps the most boring form of thievery. It took being good with words and having a charming smile. She wasn’t good with words, or at smiling at people she didn’t like. There was none of the thrill of breaking in through a window, and it didn’t require the finesse to pick locks and pockets. Scams took lies and lots of them. And it was boring. But regardless, Brynjolf always insisted she learn how to peddle a good scam. Part of the trade, he always said.

So Valkari spent the rest of the morning either at the stand or prowling the crowds for a few extra pickings. By noon, interest in the market had wound down and Brynjolf closed up shop for the day. Valkari yawned, stretching as she got up from her seat on the ground. Scams really were horribly dull.

Brynjolf simply chuckled. “Come on wee lass. Let’s head home, shall we?”

They headed down the creaking wooden steps to the canal below and through an old, rusting metal gate. The smell down there would have been overwhelming to most, but when you lived in the sewers, you learned to live with it.

The thugs that roamed the Ratway never gave them any trouble and kept their distance, though Valkari suspected that was more out of respect for Brynjolf than it was for her. She didn’t like the way the low lives eyed her up as they passed through the tunnels, like a lump of meat just right for the taking. She wished they had just gone through the Cistern entrance instead.

They came to a reasonably large kitchen area, where an orc was hacking up lumps of meat into small chunks. She nodded sternly as they passed her to the door leading into the Ragged Flagon.

The Flagon itself was a domed, cavernous space with a large stone basin taking up most of the space. Around the edges of the room were alcoves that had since long been taken over by cobwebs and dust. Brynjolf had explained that once upon a time, merchants set up shop there before business turned bad and they moved on, taking their wares elsewhere. The only real point of interest in this room at all was the bar, the Flagon itself.

Tended to by Vekel the Man, the bar was where the guild’s members went to drink, eat and deal. The most frequent faces aside from the barkeep himself were Dirge, the bouncer with a face like a troll and the manners to match, Tonilia, a redguard fence with a no-nonsense attitude, Delvin, a breton and a senior member of the guild, and Vex, an imperial infiltrator with a short temper. Valkari had heard stories that years ago the bar was busier than the Imperial City itself. The last time she'd seen the place packed with more patrons than rats was when she was very small, and she honestly wondered if it just seemed like a lot of people _because_ she was small.

“Ah, there they are,” announced Delvin, lifting his mug as they stepped into the flickering torchlight. “Bryn, Val. Have a good morning?”

“You should see the lass’s haul,” Brynjolf said proudly, smiling wryly as he took a seat. “At this rate she’ll be earning more than anyone else in the guild.”

Vex snorted as Valkari passed by. She didn’t like the idea of being surpassed by anyone, least of all the skinny brat. Valkari dropped her pack onto the table where Tonilia was sitting. She raised a brow but pulled her seat up to the table, ready to value her items.

Officially, she wasn’t meant to be fencing with Tonilia just yet – Valkari wasn’t an official member of the guild and wouldn’t be unless she passed her trial that night. Exactly what that trial could be, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that the Guildmaster, Mercer Frey, was going to set her a job to complete. If she succeeded, she would be permitted to join the guild officially. If she failed, she was on her own. Provided she wasn’t dead.

But Brynjolf had a point. Between her pick pocketing and sneaking about the city, Valkari was proving more successful than many full members of the guild. So much so that Tonilia was willing to bend her rules if it meant turning a profit again. Not bad for a fifteen year old, she often remarked.

Fifteen and already a practiced thief. Most would lament at the thought like it was a tragedy and yet would do nothing to prevent it. Less effort to look like a good person that way.

Tonilia inspected the myriad of goods, weighing them in her hands and inspecting every surface for flaw or forgery. And it seemed they all passed the test.

“I’ll give you two hundred and ten gold pieces for all of it,” she said, placing the purse in the middle of the table.

It hardly seemed fair, considering the craftsmanship of the items, but once Tonilia made an offer that was it. There was no room for haggling and negotiation. So Valkari simply took the purse and pocketed it before returning to Brynjolf and Delvin.

“Val,” greeted Delvin, flashing his rotting, crooked teeth. “Come on, pull up a seat. Brynjolf was just telling me that your trial’s tonight. Nervous?”

“I could use some advice,” she said lightly, shrugging.

Delvin’s grin broadened and he pointed a grubby finger at her. “See, that kind of attitude comes from someone who wants to get rich, and stay alive long enough to enjoy it. That’ll get you a long way down here.” He pushed a tankard towards her. “Have a drink.”

“Getting drunk is your advice?”

Brynjolf snorted into his own drink and threw Delvin an apologetic grin.

Delvin took it all in stride and leant back in his seat. “I’d love to advise you my girl. But until you know what your job is, I’m afraid there’s not much I can do. Don’t worry, Mercer’ll let you ask for advice and information. Even he’s not cruel enough to throw you in the deep end.”

Somehow, Valkari didn’t agree with that.

[]

Soon enough night was falling, and Cynric stuck his head into the Flagon.

“Val, Mercer wants to see you. He’s ready to give you your assignment.”

Finally.

Valkari got to her feet and made her way into the Cistern, the main body of the Thieves Guild. Like the Flagon, it was a domed, cavern room, with a large grate overhead that let sunlight filter in. Along the walls were drainage pipes complete with flowing water that kept the cistern in the centre full. Everyone was allocated a bed and a chest for their personal effects, and a passage led off from the hall to the training room, be it for archery, locking picking or just hitting something to vent some frustration. There was also the vault at the opposite end of the hall, with its huge, heavy doors she’d never seen open. It was where the guild stored its treasures, and only Mercer, Brynjolf and Delvin had the keys to get inside.

Mercer was waiting on the platform in the centre of the Cistern, arms folded across his chest and his foot tapping impatiently. He was a breton man with wiry hair and a face stuck in a perpetual frown. He was also the best thief the guild had, hence he was the Guildmaster.

“Mercer,” greeted Brynjolf, standing at the man’s side. Mercer looked Valkari up and down, decidedly unimpressed.

“We’ve invested fifteen years’ worth of time and resources into her, Brynjolf,” he grunted. “This better not be a waste of that time."

He then turned to Valkari.

"Before we begin, I want to make one thing perfectly clear. You play by the rules, you walk away rich. You break the rules and you lose your share. No debates. No discussions. You do what we say, when we say. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good, then it’s time to put your expertise to the test.”

“Wait a moment, you’re not talking about Goldenglow, are you? Even our little Vex couldn’t get in,” Brynjolf interjected, his brow furrowing.

Mercer scowled and his arms seemed to be more tightly knotted than ever. “You claim this recruit possesses an aptitude for our line of work. Let her prove it. You _have_ been training her, haven’t you? Or are you getting sentimental?”

“Give me the details,” Valkari interjected shortly.

“Goldenglow estate is critically important to one of our largest clients,” he explained brusquely. “However the owner has decided to take matters into his own hands and shut us out. He needs to be taught a lesson. Brynjolf will provide you with the details. Succeed here and you’re in. Get caught or die, and we’ve never heard of you.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and marched away. As delightful as ever.

Valkari turned to Brynjolf who still didn’t look all too happy with the decision. But nonetheless, they returned to the Flagon and sat down to talk details.

“Goldenglow Estate is the bee farm, out on the lake. They raise the wretched little things to make honey. It’s owned by some smart-mouth high elf named Aringoth. We need you to teach him a lesson by burning down three of the estate’s hives and clearing out the safe in the main house.”

“Okay. What’s the catch?”

He held up two fingers. “The first is the mercenaries; Aringoth tossed out the city guards and hired professionals to guard the place. The second is that you can’t burn the place to the ground. That client Mercer mentioned would be furious if you did.”

“And considering Maven’s temper and connections, that makes sense,” she said, smirking. The only client worth mentioning in the guild was the infamous Maven Black-Briar, the matriarch of the Black-Briar family and owner of all of its businesses. Not to mention that she had Jarl Leila Lawgiver in her pocket. She practically ruled Riften and crossing her was a death sentence.

Brynjolf nodded, still oddly serious. “Aye, the last thing we want to be doing is crossing our clients. Especially ones with their fingers in the Dark Brotherhood’s pie.”

“So mercenaries and no levelling the estate. What do I do about Aringoth?”

“If you have no other options, kill him, but avoid it if you can. We can’t turn a profit by killing, so do your best to keep your blade clean lass. The guild has a lot riding on this, so don’t make me look foolish by mucking it up. Now I suggest you talk to Vex – she can give you some advice on Goldenglow. Good luck on that island lass, those mercenaries don’t take prisoners.”

Vex was in her usual spot, leaning against a stack of crates. She raised a brow at Valkari when she walked over and wore a slight smirk.

“Before we begin I want to make two things perfectly clear,” she began sharply. “One, I’m the best infiltrator this rat hole of a guild’s got. So if you think you’re here to replace me, you’re dead wrong. And two, you follow my lead and do exactly as I saw. No questions, no excuses. Got it?”

“Back off Vex, I know the drill,” Valkari replied, smirking right back. “I’m not stupid enough to underestimate you.”

Vex’s lips twitched ever so slightly into a smile. “Haha, I always knew I liked you. You're not a pushover like the other idiots around here. Now it’s time to get your feet wet and I don’t want to waste a lot of time talking about anything other than business.”

“Business it is then. I heard you ran into some trouble at Goldenglow?”

Her face promptly twisted into a frown. “Goldenglow? Wait, that’s not what Mercer set for your trial is it? What’s that bastard thinking?”

Valkari tilted her head to one side. “Brynjolf seemed worried too. What’s so bad about Goldenglow?”

Vex shook her head, looking thoroughly disgusted. “What’s so bad? _I_ couldn’t get in there. And no offense kiddo, but you’re no master thief just yet and Mercer sees fit to throw you to the wolves.” She huffed, folding her arms across her chest. “And right after I told him I was planning another crack at that place… Look, those mercs are nothing to sneeze are. That altmer s’wit more than tripled the guard – there were eight of them in the basement, and that doesn’t even cover the rest of the estate. And let’s face it, you’re no swordsman.”

That was true. Valkari had always been small and skinny for her age, and whilst most nords could swing any weapon of their choice over their heads and smash open skulls with ease, she could barely lift an axe let alone use one. She’d always been far more compatible with a bow and she had strength and stamina enough for thieving, so she’d never considered it an issue. And besides, being small meant being harder to see.

“Any tips to get me in there?” Valkari asked, folding her arms over her chest.

She sighed. “You’re not even going to let me try and shout Mercer down, are you?”

“It won’t work, even if you did.”

Finally, she conceded. “There’s an old sewer tunnel that dumps out into the lake on the northwest side of the island. That’s how I slipped in there. Should still be unguarded.”

[]

Night had well and truly fallen by the time Valkari left the Cistern. Everyone had piled into the Ragged Flagon (barring Mercer), all of them wishing her the best of luck on her first proper job. The longer she stayed however, the more horrible a feeling she got about Goldenglow. The way they were acting it was like most of them never expected to see her again. Even Thrynn, whom Valkari had had a history of conflict with since she’d thrown a bow at him when she was eight, seemed rather solemn about the job. It ought to have been a much more festive affair, yet it felt more like a funeral.

Right before she left, Brynjolf met her at the ladder leading out of the Cistern and gave her a hug for luck. He said that tried not to be so openly affectionate with her in front of the guild so that it didn’t look like he ‘played favourites’. In truth he was trying to get the others to stop calling him soft. It didn’t stop them.

“Be careful out there my wee lass,” he said quietly. “We want to have a proper celebration when you get back.”

Having something to look forward to was always good, so she nodded before departing.

Valkari was currently jogging along the path by the lakeside. Swimming wasn’t an option and neither was a boat, but fortunately there was a bridge leading to the island. It would likely be guarded, but if she played her cards right, they would never see her coming.

There was only one guard at the gate when she arrived. Distracting him was easy enough – Valkari grabbed a handful of stones and tossed them across the path. The merc grunted and lifted his torch.

“Who’s there?” He growled, stomping forward to investigate. He didn’t see Valkari slip past and climb the wall.

Safely on the other side, she listened carefully. The merc on the other side grunted: “Must’ve been a fox or something.”

She had cleared the first obstacle.

[]

Getting into the house wasn’t too difficult. Valkari slipped into the sewers as Vex had recommended, all the while refraining from drawing the attention of the small army of mercenaries on watch.

Goldenglow Estate was based on a series of small islands in the middle of Lake Honrich and the mercenaries had set up their camp across them. Fortunately for Valkari, the shores of the islands were near invisible beneath the rock walls and so no one spotted her.

As for the sewers themselves, aside from a couple of traps and a few skeevers, it was relatively safe and got her right to the front door without raising the alarm at all. There were no guards around here at the moment as Vex had said, but Valkari knew that she had to work quickly in case that changed.

She tested the door handle. Locked. No surprises there. She pulled out a pair of lock picks and quickly got to work, carefully shifting the tumblers into place. The lock clicked, the door opened and she slipped inside.

The corridor Valkari found herself in was dark but somewhere she could hear rumbling voices and the chink of bottles. That certainly sounded like a lot more than eight mercenaries. Ducking down beside a cabinet so she was hidden from view, she pulled out a square of parchment with a scribble map of the estate on it, courtesy of Delvin. The safe was down in the basement which could be accessed through a door around the corner at the end of the hall. It could be picked, but Aringoth was known to carry a key on him at all times. It was a choice between saving a few picks and avoiding more mercenaries.

Lockpicks could be brought. Her life, not so much.

Valkari stuffed the map back into her pocket and crept down the hall before peering around the corner. To the right there was a gate, behind which was the door to the basement. On the left she could spy the back of a mercenary leaning against the wall. No doubt, that gate was going to be locked and trying to pick the lock when that merc could turn his back at any moment was not a comforting thought. But he seemed absorbed in his current conversations with the other mercs around the bend, just out of sight. It was risky, but risks were just part of the job.

Moving as quickly as she dared without making any noises, Valkari approached the gate and slipped the picks into the lock.

If the merc heard anything as she ducked through the gate, he did nothing about it.

The basement was a something of a maze, and trying to slip past mercenaries in the dark was harder than Valkari had expected. Once or twice she was heard and only by ducking into a dark corner and making herself as small as possible saved her. The sound was dismissed as imagination or a noise from upstairs and the mercs carried on.

It was only down a narrow corridor did slipping past become impossible.

Another merc was leaning up against the wall of the next bend, and from what Valkari could see, she would need to pass straight in front of him to get any further.

She quickly got a scope of the environment around her. There were two other mercenaries on the opposite side of the room with their backs turned. There were puddles of oil on the floor for some reason, enough to cause a panic but not enough to burn down the estate. And the merc was unwittingly standing right by it.

Retreating up the passage, Valkari glanced around. There was a bundle of unused torches resting on a shelf above her and she had a vial of kindlepitch in her pack. Just a pinch would be enough to make the oil go up quickly, long enough that the mercs would be so preoccupied with who set the fire that they wouldn’t even see her slip by. And they would have no reason to be suspicious if a torch had fallen and lit the oil. They’d have no reason to believe she’d been there until the hives went up in flames.

Taking one of the unused torches, Valkari coated the tip of it in kindlepitch. She inched back down the hall and tossed it across the floor before diving back out of sight. The reaction was almost instantaneous as the moment the torch hit the oil, it ignited. Within seconds the oil had gone up in flames and all three mercenaries panicked trying to extinguish the fire before it could spread. They never even noticed Valkari climbing across the rafters overhead, dropping into the room behind them and darting down the stairs to the last room.

She closed the door behind her and listened.

“Bloody idiot!” One roared. “Why’d you knock the torch down?”

“That weren’t there earlier,” the other retorted. “I’d remember!”

“Then how else did it manage to light the oil, idiot? Do you think it just walked there on its own?”

She didn’t stop to listen to the rest. It was enough to know they’d fallen for it and the more they bickered, the more time she had before anyone came to check on the safe.

A few coin purses sat on a table besides a bookcase – Valkari pocketed them for herself. The guild were pretty clear that profits were split on marks. They never said anything about the pieces found on the side. She then turned to the safe and got to work.

A few broken picks and a near-tantrum later and she had it open. Inside was another coin purse, this one leather rather than burlap, and a slip of parchment bearing Aringoth’s seal. She broke the wax seal and shook open the parchment:

_Aringoth,_

_This document acknowledges the sale of Goldenglow Estate and all property, assets and materials contained within. Payment of the property has been made in full by Gaju-Lei as an agent on behalf of the buyer. All dealings with the Thieves Guild in Riften is to cease immediately. To deter any possible retribution for this act, you are to take immediate steps to protect our assets in any way you see fit. I think you'll find that the Thieves Guild is far more bark than bite and will likely avoid Goldenglow Estate rather than thin their already dwindling numbers._

_Good luck and may this be the start of a long and lucrative partnership._

There was no signature on the parchment, just a strange symbol that resembled a sword. How peculiar.

Still it was what Mercer, and by extension Maven, had asked for and she had it. Now there was just the matter of the bee hives.

[]

A thick column of smoke billowed into the air as Valkari rowed away from the island in the boat she had stolen from the docks. She could see the mercenaries running and hear them shouting, waving their torches and weapons at her from the edge of the island as she drew further and further away. They couldn’t identify her, so there was no real problem with it, and it was oddly satisfying to see their frustration at being one upped.

Valkari ditched the boat the moment she reached the shore and ran for the slums outside on the fringes of the city, weaving through the tiny, dirty shacks, well out of sight from any guards until she reached the outer wall that kept the slum separate from the rest of Riften. But by now they’d be too busy setting out for the island to investigate rather than searching the city for the criminal who’d done it. Besides, by day break, they’d all know the culprit.

The Thieves Guild was back.


	2. Imitation Amnesty

Valkari’s return to the Ragged Flagon was met with a brief silence of shock in which everyone was staring at her as though she’d just returned from the dead. Considering how they’d sent her off, she just might have. There was a great scraping of chairs and suddenly she was being buried under a flurry of questions, pats on the back and words of congratulations. Brynjolf elbowed his way over just as Vex was demanding to know how it had gone and if she’d been successful or not.

“Alright you lot, back off!” he barked. “Give her room to breathe.” He looked around at Valkari expectantly, clearly wondering the same as everyone else – had she actually pulled it off?

Valkari pulled out the leather purse and the contract from the safe with a smirk on her face. “Was there ever any doubt?”

There were further whoops of admiration as Brynjolf took the items from her, with a proud look on his face. Until he shook the parchment open and he read what was there. His eyes went wide with surprise and everyone quietened down.

“Aringoth sold Goldenglow?” he muttered in disbelief. “What’s that idiot thinking? He has no idea to the extent of Maven’s fury when she’s been cut out of a deal, but I’m certain he’ll find out.”

“Let me see that.” Vex plucked the contract from Brynjolf’s fingers and scanned it quickly. “No buyer's name, except for this symbol.”

Delvin peered over her shoulder to look at it. “Never seen it before – certainly not a major organisation. And definitely not a former client. Oi Niruin, this wouldn’t be related to that old group of yours would it?”

Niruin was a bosmer, and the one who’d taught Valkari how to use a bow. He’d been chased out of Valenwood by his own father after running with a group known as the Silver Crescents, bosmer thieves who operated solely in the dense jungles of the province. He contacted Delvin, came to Skyrim to join the guild and had been there ever since.

He took a look at the symbol at the top of the page and shook his head.

“No, I’ve never seen that symbol before. Certainly not bosmeri in any sense,” he remarked.

Brynjolf grimaced. “Blast. Well I’ll check my sources and speak to Mercer.” He folded up the parchment and tucked it into his pocket before turning back to Valkari. “Well my wee lass, it’s official now. And you’ve certainly earned it – rest up for now and speak with Tonilia. She’ll set you up with your new armour. You can take jobs from Vex and Delvin from now on until we have another assignment for you. And don’t worry, they pay well.”

“Speaking of which…”

Brynjolf chuckled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a purse of coins. “Of course, your pay. You’re as smart as a whip lass. Keep this up, and there’s plenty more where that came from. Now, I need to speak to Mercer. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to hear that this mess has been tidied up. Now go on. I won’t keep you from your adoring public for any longer than necessary.”

[]

In time, the initial enthusiasm over Valkari’s success at Goldenglow wound down and soon enough it was business as usual. She’d settled into her new role amongst the guild quickly, taking work from Delvin and Vex whenever she could, be it shills, sweeps, numbers or fishing. Of course Maven had come into the Cistern to speak with Mercer about the Goldenglow job and expressed her pleasure that the mess with Aringoth had finally been sorted out. It wasn’t long after did the altmer turn up dead in his study – a tragic suicide by all official accounts. Everyone knew better than to believe that and said nothing.

But even so, nothing could dampen Valkari’s mood. Within mere weeks she was already making a name for herself, with the longest list of successes the guild had seen in a long time since hitting a rough patch. Successes meant gold. And gold meant that everyone was happy. So it was with a far more cheerful grin than usual that Delvin called her over one morning just as she was returning home from a job.

“I was hoping you’d be back,” he said as Valkari sat down opposite. “I’ve just had a special request come in, and I’d like you to handle it.”

She hid a yawn behind her hand and rubbed her eyes, sitting upright, trying to look like she was paying some semblance of attention.

“We actually got a request from one of the most powerful families in Whiterun. The Battle-Borns,” he explained. “Make your way up there, and look for Olfrid. He says he’s got a matter that requires a delicate touch and I suggested you for the job. Don’t make me the fool and let me down, alright?”

“Yeah,” she yawned. “When is he expecting me?”

“He wants to see you as soon as possible. I recommend you jump on a carriage for Whiterun and sleep then. Do this right and Olfrid can open some old doors for us – we’ve got a lot riding on this my girl.”

His tone said that he was ordering this of her – Valkari wished he’d just sent a raven. She’d just gotten back from Whiterun doing a job for him. But regardless, She nodded and shuffled out of the Flagon again, not even stopping to grab something to eat. If Delvin of all people was telling her to sleep on the way there, it had to be important. And she didn’t feel like arguing with him right now, not after being up all night.

The guards ignored her as she made her way through the city streets. After Goldenglow, the guild had been out on a mass crime wave to celebrate. Shop and homeowners alike were waking up to find their precious valuables gone whilst the guards had woken up to a fat bag of bribes to keep them out of the way. Of course Mjoll had become more irritating than ever as a result. She, like so many others, thought that the guild was on its way out and was furious to hear that it was making a comeback after she’d tried so hard to see it squashed out.

Valkari was grateful that the streets were empty right now. She was exhausted and felt ready to drop. Trying to get through streams of people was too much work. Still, the carriage driver said nothing as she mumbled her destination and shoved a few coins into his hand. She clambered into the carriage and curled up, tugging her cloak tightly around herself. She was asleep before they even set off.

[]

Whiterun was perhaps Valkari’s second favourite city in Skyrim (after Riften of course), if only because it was so profitable. Though it _did_ lack the smell of sewers and stagnate canal water, which made it a very close second. When she was shaken awake by the carriage driver, it was late evening. He shooed her away and she quickly set off up the hill to the city gates.

The streets were fairly empty, considering the time, but she could see lights flickering in the windows of the Drunken Huntsman and the Bannered Mare. Valkari decided to head for the latter – the clientele and the owner were much more tolerable than that of the tavern which was filled with its namesake by this time.

The Bannered Mare was packed with patrons, most of them in for a drink after long day of work. It was easy enough to pick a few pockets as Valkari headed for the bar where the owner, a woman named Hulda, served her guests. She gave Valkari a friendly smile as she appeared from the crowd, pockets a fair bit fuller, and pulled out an empty flagon.

“Welcome to the Bannered Mare my dear,” she greeted. “Can I get you anything?”

“Got any rooms?” Valkari asked, reaching for one of the purses in her pocket.

“Ten Septims for one night,” she said, smiling. Valkari handed over the coins and Hulda stepped out from behind the bar. “I’ll show you to your room. Right this way.”

Hulda led Valkari up the stairs and into a small room with a single bed in the corner and a nightstand beside it.

“Is there anything else I can get you, dear?”

“A bottle of Honningbrew mead and a venison chop would be good.”

“That’ll be twenty five gold, my dear.” She took the gold and left, closing the door behind her.

Hulda never asked questions. It was part of why Valkari liked her. She never asked why she was alone, or if she was another orphan, or how she happened to always have enough money. She just took things as they were and never pried. It suited Valkari just fine. A serving girl came by with food and drink before promptly leaving her to herself. She wasn’t aware of how hungry she was until she took a bite of the venison. It was gone in the space of a few heartbeats and the stabbing ache in her stomach subsided.

Valkari laid back on the bed, but she knew that trying to sleep was pointless. She was wide awake from her sleep in the carriage and she was too restless to stay up here all night. So she slipped out of the room and down the stairs. But just as she reached the door leading out to the street, it opened and just the man she had been sent to meet walked in.

Olfrid Battle-Born looked like he had been a very impressive man in his youth. Now he was fat and grey, and garbed in heavy furs fit only for marching around the streets and bellowing at shop keepers over matters beyond their control. He was followed in by Eorlund Grey-Mane, his old friend and the forge master for the Companions.

“Outta my way,” Olfrid barked when he noticed Valkari in his path.

“You might want to try learning some manners. Or perhaps the guild will take its business elsewhere,” she replied coolly, glaring back up at him.

Olfrid blinked and realisation dawned on him and he quickly cleared his throat. “My apologies, I didn’t realise you were the one Delvin sent.” He turned to Eorlund. “Go order some drinks – I’ll be along shortly.”

Eorlund grunted, gave Valkari a very unimpressed look before plodding off towards the bar. Olfrid ushered her into a small room and shut the door.

“You must forgive me. I wasn’t expecting you until morning.”

“I hadn’t been planning on meeting you till then. But why waste time?”

“Exactly. You’re here and not a moment too soon. If anything should happen to Arn, there’ll be hell to pay,” he growled, eyeing her carefully. Valkari could feel every bit of judgement in that gaze. She’d gotten it a thousand times over from all of Skyrim’s ‘true nords’.

“I’m afraid Delvin didn’t give me the specifics,” she replied tersely.

“Ah, of course. Arn is a close friend of mine. We fought together on the battlefield for many years until old age got the best of us. Now it’s up to me to save him one more time… This time from the executioner’s block in Solitude.”

Valkari frowned. “Solitude? But then why am I here in Whiterun?”

“The city guard in Solitude is seeking Arn for a serious crime. When he fled here, he was arrested for drunken behaviour! Can you imagine? Fortunately his identity isn’t known to the authorities here in Whiterun, so there’s still a chance to save him.”

A prison break then. More of Cynric’s work, but she’d bite.

“Right, point me to the prisons then.”

Olfrid shook his head. “This is more than a simple prison break, girl. I want Arn’s name stricken from the record books permanently. I’m setting him up with a new identity. It’s the only way to throw the guard permanently off his trail.”

“I see,” Valkari said, trying to sound impressed and failing. “So where do I come into this plan of yours?”

“The job is two-fold,” he explained. “First, I need you to steal a letter sent from Solitude warning Whiterun’s guard to be on the lookout for Arn. The second is to change Arn’s name in the prison registry to his new identity.”

“Sounds simple enough,” she said, rubbing her hands together.

Olfrid glared. “If it was easy, I’d be hiring a local thug rather than a professional. You see both of these items are kept inside Dragonsreach, and they don’t allow visitors into the Jarl’s or Steward’s chambers. One more thing, if you get caught, I can’t afford to be connected to you. Try and remember that before you do something stupid.”

Valkari glared back at him. “If you wanted stupid, wouldn’t you hire a thug rather than a professional?” she retorted coldly. “I’ll get you your letter and I’ll see your friend’s name changed.”

And with that, she stalked out of the room.

[]

The Jarl’s chambers were crawling with guards, but it was the Jarl’s children who were proving far more problematic. They were currently standing in their father’s study, where the letter about Arn was being kept, and they were bickering loudly like the little brats they were whilst Valkari hid in the rafters right above the letter. If only they hadn’t chosen to come in here to look for their father!

“Father said he’d get me a new dress ages ago, now where is it?!”

“It takes time to make to make a dress Dagny, you have to be patient.”

Dagny stamped her feet angrily, balling her hands into fists. “I don’t wanna be patient! I want my dress! Father _promised_!”

“Now what’s all this noise about?”

 _Shit_.

Jarl Balgruuf the Greater was as nordy as nords got, with a golden mane of hair and a great beard he tamed into braids. He was muscular and carried a large axe at his hip. But unlike most nords, he had a reputation for being level-headed and for using his head as well as his heart. It certainly made things trickier.

“Father, you promised me you’d get me a new dress!” Dagny whinged, storming over to her father.

“I keep telling that she has to be patient, but she won’t listen,” her brother cried, scowling at her. She threw a nasty glare back at him and Balgruuf raised his hands.

“Enough, both of you. Come now, it is getting late and you should have both been off to bed long before now.”

He shooed his two children out, closing the door behind him. The moment he was gone, Valkari dropped down to the floor silently, grabbed the letter and slipped out of the side door before he could come back. That had been too close.

Fortunately for her, the Steward’s quarters were far less guarded than Balgruuf’s and Valkari had more time to sneak around in search of the Prison Registry. Sure enough, she found it on the desk. Marked down was Arn, his crime: drunken behaviour. Carefully, she removed the page from the book and began to copy up its contents, changing only Arn’s name. With careful effort, the new page was near identical to the old one. Valkari stuck the page she had ripped out into the fire place and was out of Dragonsreach before anyone could be any wiser to what had happened.

She’d found Olfrid on his way home from the Bannered Mare – he was incredibly pleased to hear of her success and handed Valkari an enchanted golden ring as her payment, as well as his promise to open up old doors in the hold for the Guild. It was just as Delvin had said.

Valkari bowed her head before heading back for Riften to report her success. Delvin was going to be fairly busy soon enough, and she had another big success under her belt.


	3. Skeevers, Spiders and Mead, Oh My!

As suspected, Delvin was delighted to hear of Valkari’s success and Olfrid’s promise to re-open some old doors down in Whiterun. The guild had new clients trickling from the area, and all had need of its services. Within a few days, a new merchant had arrived to peddle their wares in the Flagon and one of the old dusty alcoves was now the perfect place to browse for new arms and tools that were perfect for Valkari’s line of work. Not that everything was going smoothly, however. There were still plenty of rough patches to smooth out.

One afternoon, Valkari slipped back into the Flagon and made her way over to the bar to grab something to eat. She was barely through the door when she heard shouting coming from the other side of the room, bouncing off the walls.

Vex was back from a job and going from how furious she was, it hadn’t gone well.

“Delvin, that heist on the Cyrodiil frontier was worthless,” she snarled.

Delvin just shook his head, looking confused. “But that lout in the tavern said-“

“You idiot, he said ‘ _firs_ ’ not ‘furs’! It was a damn logging caravan!”

Valkari headed for the bar and placed a few coins on the counter.

“Usual,” she grunted, still half asleep. Vekel chuckled and took the coin. He turned to the fire and ladled out some soup.

“Been busy?” She nodded. “Ah, should have thought of that when you got so good at this. By the way, Brynjolf wanted to speak with you. Seems you have a job, an important one.”

Good, Valkari didn’t feel like asking Vex and getting chewed out when she was angry like this, and Delvin’s information had been somewhat iffy these last few nights. Rotten luck was starting to creep up again it would seem. Time to fix that.

Valkari ate quickly, trying not to scald her mouth in the process, before heading off to find Brynjolf.

He was in the training room, hitting one of the dummies with his sword. He didn’t seem to notice Valkari and a mischievous idea came to mind.

She snuck around him, making not a sound until she was right behind him.

“Hi pa.”

Brynjolf yelled and turned on his heel. Valkari barely ducking in time as his sword sliced right where her neck had been a moment before.

“By the Nine lass,” he groaned. “Don’t sneak up on me like that! I could’ve killed you!”

“It was too good an opportunity to get you back for last week,” she remarked, shrugging lightly. “Vekel said you were looking for me.”

Brynjolf huffed, shaking his head as he sheathed his sword.

“I was, and here you are. I need you to head over to the Bee and Barb – Maven’s asked for you. By name.”

Valkari’s insides suddenly went cold. Maven wanted her? Was it about Goldenglow?

“But I thought the job went flawlessly…?”

“What? Oh, no it’s not like that lass,” Brynjolf said hurriedly, shaking his head. “If she wanted you dead, she wouldn’t be asking for you. She’d be calling on the Dark Brotherhood. It’s just business.”

Somehow that didn’t make her feel much better and perhaps Brynjolf noticed as he ruffled her hair.

“Don’t worry. So long as you do your job right, Maven pays her people well.”

“What is it she wants?”

“That’s between you and Maven, and I’d rather we keep it that way lass. Now off you go, Maven doesn’t care for lollygaggers.”

Valkari nodded, still feeling a little apprehensive about speaking with the treacherous old hag face to face. She’d seen her and Mercer arguing and she was indeed formidable. After all, you didn’t get to be the Shadow Queen of the Rift by being a good person.

Valkari had learnt a long time ago, that honour and good deeds were for people who had no desire for wealth or long life. And she rather liked both.

[]

Maven was waiting for Valkari in a private parlour in the Bee and Barb. Talen-Jei showed her inside rather begrudgingly and shut the door. Sitting in her seat like it was a throne, with an untouched flagon of mead in front of her was Maven, her dark eyes fixed on Valkari, unblinking. She felt very much like she’d just been locked in with a lion.

But she didn’t let it show as she strode across the room with her usual professional confidence. Maven raised an eyebrow.

“So you’re the one?” She looked her up and down with a disdainful look on her face, no doubt accounting for Valkari’s short, skinny frame. “You don’t look so impressive.”

“How about we skip the conversation and get down to business? I don’t like wasting my time. I’m sure you understand,” Valkari replied coolly, praying she didn’t take it as an insult.

At that, the disdain turned into a rather pleased smirk – or as pleased as Maven could ever look.

“You’re a firebrand aren’t you? It’s about time Brynjolf sent someone with business sense,” she said sharply. “I was beginning to think he was running some sort of beggar’s guild over there.”

“That doesn’t sound like business to me,” Valkari pointed out and Maven’s lip curled a little more. It sent a chill down her spine.

“Very well. I need you to head to the Bannered Mare in Whiterun and speak with Mallus Maccius. He’ll fill you in on all the details. Your target is Honningbrew Meadery, a competitor of mine.” Her smirk twisted into an ugly frown. “My _only_ competitor. See to it that this job is done as flawlessly as your reputation proclaims. I don’t care for layabouts, and they certainly don’t get paid.”

Valkari nodded and made to leave. But when she reached the door, Maven called her back.

“One more time, in case I wasn’t clear,” she said in a voice so soft it was menacing. “You butcher this job, and you _will_ be sorry.”

Valkari nodded, retaining a cool expression. But once she was on the other side of the door, she swallowed hard and rubbed her temples, Maven’s threat replaying over a few times in her head.

Oh how she hated that woman.

[]

Valkari was halfway to the Bannered Mare when she realised that she was chewing her nails. She stuffed her hands into her pockets in an attempt to stop, but it didn’t make her any less nervous. Maven wanted this job done flawlessly, and if she didn’t deliver…

Valkari paused at the door and took a deep breath. She’d been doing just fine so far, there was no reason for this job to fall through. So long as she kept her head and focused, she would be just fine.

Pushing the door open, Valkari stepped inside. It was very early in the morning, so the bar was empty with the exception of the bard Mikael. Valkari hurried by. The way that man leered at her made her skin crawl and she had no desire to be cornered by him when there was no one around to stop him.

Hulda smiled as Valkari approached. “What can I get you dear?”

“I’m looking for Mallus Maccius. I was asked to speak with him.”

“He’s through the back there dear. Go ahead, I don’t mind.”

Valkari did wonder if there was more to Hulda than she knew, but she wasn’t complaining as she went behind the counter into the kitchens. Saadia was stewing some broth and sitting in the corner was Mallus.

He was imperial with pale waxy skin, blood-shot eyes and long, dark hair. He glared as Valkari walked over. She could smell the mead on him.

“Can’t a man drink in peace?” He spat. “Get lost girl.”

“Maven said you were expecting me.”

“Really? Well you’re not what I was expecting, but I suppose you’ll have to do,” he grumbled. “Well I’m going to keep this short because we’ve got a lot to do. Honningbrew’s owner, Sabjorn, is about to hold a tasting session for Whiterun’s Captain of the Guard. And we’re going to poison his newest mead.”

Valkari frowned. “That sounds more like Dark Brotherhood territory.”

Mallus shook his head, sniggering. “Don’t worry, it’s not going to kill him,” he said mockingly. “It’ll be enough to make the Captain feel awful for a few days, and angry enough to have Sabjorn locked up.”

“You have the poison then?” Valkari asked. “Unless you lost it in that flagon of yours?”

He laughed at that. “Well the little runt does have some bark then. We’ll find out soon enough if you have any bite – as for the poison, well. That’s the beauty of the plan. We’re going to get Sabjorn to give it to us. The meadery has a pest problem and the whole city knows about it. Pest poison and mead don’t mix well, you know what I mean?”

“Where do I come into your little scheme?”

“You’re going to happen by and lend poor old Sabjorn a helping hand. He’s going to give you the poison to use on the pests, but you’re also going to dump it into the brewing vat of his new concoction – Honningbrew Reserve,” he explained, his eyes glittering maliciously.

“Also? Why bother poisoning the nest at all?”

“With Sabjorn out of the picture, it leaves a clean path for Maven to take over and convert the meadery to the Black-Briar’s,” he explained, shrugging carelessly.

“And she offered you a nice pile of gold and the running of the place,” Valkari concluded. “Then I’d best not waste time before Sabjorn decides to hire someone to clear out the problem for him.”

“That you should. Now get going and don’t bother speaking to me again until it’s done,” he grunted, returning to his drink. Valkari rolled her eyes, but said nothing as she headed out towards Honningbrew. She personally found the man irritating, but he had to have some brains in there if Maven was collaborating with him. Hopefully he’d have enough so that she kept him as a business partner.

[]

Honestly, Valkari did wonder how Honningbrew had ever come to be a serious competitor with the Black-Briars. She had barely stepped in the door when she was hit with the stink of skeever and, true enough, lying on the floor was a newly dead one with its brains leaking out from the crack in its skull.

Standing over it, looking incredibly distraught, was a man who could only be Sabjorn. He was bent over the skeever, holding a bloodied broom in his hands and he was bright red from effort. Or stress, either was likely all things considered. His eyes shot up as he heard me enter, the blood draining from his face and leaving him rather pallid. But as he realised that it wasn’t the Captain, his panic quickly turned to irritation as he straightened up.

“What are you gawking at?” He snapped. “Can’t you see I have problems here?”

“Something wrong?” Valkari asked as she strolled in, eyes lingering on the dead Skeever.

“Are you kidding me? Look at this place,” Sabjorn despaired, gesturing around the room. “I’m supposed to be holding a tasting of the new Honningbrew Reserve for the Captain of the Guard. If he sees the meadery in this state, I’ll be ruined. Now shoo girl, I need to clean this up.”

Valkari leant against the counter, smirking slightly.

“Perhaps I can help?” she suggested.

Sabjorn looked me over and narrowed his eyes.

“Oh really? And I don’t suppose you’d just do this out of the goodness of your heart, would you?”

She folded her arms across her chest, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well I hope you don’t expect any payment until the job’s done,” he said grumpily.

“That’s the only way I operate,” she replied, shrugging.

Sabjorn shook his head, his eyes narrowed. “Well that’s not the way _I_ operate, child. So forget it.”

Valkari matched his glare. “That’d better change fast or else I yell ‘Skeever!’” she threatened.

Sabjorn waved his hands in quick surrender. “Okay, okay. No need for rash decisions.” He reached behind the counter and pulled out a small bag of coins which he then thrust into her hands. “Here. Half now, half for when the job is done.”

Valkari counted the coins inside. 500 septims. Not too bad, and there was more where that came from.

“Just tell me what to do.”

Sabjorn dug into his pocket, producing a glass bottle filled with amber liquid.

“I bought some poison to put in the rodent’s nest. I’d have had my assistant Mallus do it, but that layabout has disappeared somewhere.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust and shook his head. “Head into the basement and down into the tunnels. The nest is down there somewhere. And be quick about it – the Captain will be here within the hour!”

[]

After living in a sewer for eight years, one would think Valkari would be used to skeevers. But these weren’t the docile sort that inhabited the Rat Way looking for food. These were the nasty, wild sort that carried all sorts of diseases, from ataxia to rock joint and those were the usual ones. The further down she went, the more aggressive the nasty buggers seemed to get and the bigger ones had a nasty green mold growing on their teeth.

Fortunately they weren’t all too bright and a good hiding spot combined with a well-placed shot was more than enough to finish them off. But worse than the skeevers were the giant spiders, with their drooling fangs, long hairy legs and fat, round bodies. The Rift was crawling with these things and Valkari didn’t want to know how they came to be down here, but they were a little more work than their rodent friends.

Once clear of the spiders and the skeevers in the tunnels, Valkari came into a vast cavern. It was crawling with skeevers, especially the big ones, but it wasn’t them who had her attention. Someone was muttering just up ahead, and she could see the silhouette of another person cast onto the wall opposite me.

Cursing silently to herself, she crept forwards. There were plenty of shadows to hide in and with the stink of dung and mouldy straw, Valkari went undetected by the skeevers. Shooting them all one by one was all too easy.

She spied the nest, but it was alongside a makeshift alchemy station. Bent over it, grounding up herbs and muttering to himself was a man. Skeletally thin and with patchy white hair, he certainly wasn’t wholly sane. Valkari couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it wasn’t making much sense at all. Something about skeevers, an army and how they would all see.

Sure that no one would even know he was gone if he was living in a cave filled with skeevers, Valkari drew back her bow and caught him squarely in the back of the skull. He fell forwards, sending bottles and bowls of ingredients smashing across the ground.

Wasting no more time, Valkari vaulted the boulders and crossed to the nest and kicked back a few layers of straw before pouring half of the poison inside. It stunk of giant’s toes, but so long as it got the job done, she didn’t mind too much. Turning to the mad old man, she proceeded to rummage through his pockets. He had a few coins and an old iron dagger but that was it. Valkari took the coins, wiping off some the grime before turning to the tunnel leading out of the cavern.

It sloped gently upwards and she found herself at a wooden door that opened when she tested the handle. The sound and smell of bubbling mead filled her senses, a very pleasant change after the skeever-infested tunnels. She was in the boilery.

Giant steel vats filled the room, upper walkways needed just to reach the lids in the tops. And she had to poison one.

Valkari glanced around, thinking quickly – there were six vats in total. Sabjorn would only take mead from one for his tasting session and it was the one containing his new mead. If she was lucky, only one vat would contain Honningbrew Reserve and the rest would be standard fare.

“Seems I’ll be holding a tasting session of my own,” Valkari murmured, grabbing an empty flagon from a nearby shelf. She approached the first vat and let a few drops of mead out through the tap. She tasted it – the usual sweet taste of honey. Onto the next vat.

Valkari tested each vat, one after the other to no avail. Just as She was prepared to give up, she turned the tap of the sixth vat and tasted the mead inside. It was bitter, but not badly so, and there was a certain aftertaste that left her mouth tingling… Not bad. Shame she had to ruin it.

Still, she’d found what she was looking for and hurried up the steps to the walkway above. It took a good bit of effort to lift the lid of the vat and when she did, the strong aroma wafted out. She couldn’t resist dipping the flagon inside and scooping out some of the contents. There was no point in putting all of it to waste just to ruin Sabjorn.

Setting the flagon to one side, Valkari pulled out the poison and dumped the rest into the vat before shutting the lid again. At that moment, the door into the boilery opened and Valkari just scooted away from the edge of the walkway in time as Sabjorn walked in with a cask tucked under his arm. To her relief he filled it with the vat she had just poisoned, humming as he did, casting wary looks towards the door down into the tunnels. He was nervous. She’d give him the good news back in the main building of the meadery. After all, getting caught in the boilery would lead to awkward questions.

[]

Valkari sipped the Honningbrew Reserve as she traversed the newly cleared tunnels, stepping over the skeever corpses as she went. It tasted good and she was almost sad there wouldn’t be anymore. Perhaps Maven should steal the recipe – she’d certainly make a lot more money for it.

By the time Valkari arrived back in the meadery, she was only half way through the flagon and she was already feeling its effects. Not enough for her to slip up, but enough to put her in a very good mood.

But it wouldn’t do her any good to walk in drinking, so she left the flagon on top of a barrel before stepping back into the barroom.

Sabjorn was wringing his hands anxiously as Mallus stood to one side. There was an angry red welt on his cheek – no doubt Sabjorn’s work. Either that or he’d tried pulling something with Saadia. After the sorts of men Valkari had seen in the Bee and Barb, both seemed likely.

“There you are,” cried Sabjorn when he caught sight of her. “Have you taken care of our ‘little problem’?”

“I don’t think you’ll ever have another problem with those tunnels again,” she said smoothly, a sly smirk playing across her lips.

Sabjorn daubed his brow in relief.

“Excellent. Now, the Captain will be here any moment, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“Hey.” He turned back to Valkari, irate again. “What about the rest of my money?”

“You children are so impatient,” he groaned. “You’ll just have to wait. I’ll pay you after my business with the Captain is done.”

Clearly there wasn’t any room to argue so with a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Valkari threw herself into a chair, tapping her foot impatiently.

Moments later the door opened and Captain Caius walked in. An imperial man with dark olive skin and dark hair, he was pretty much the ideal of what a good guardsman should be. Strong, pious and irritatingly righteous, he was exactly the sort of person Valkari hated most. It’d be interesting to see what the poison did to him.

“I can’t wait to see Sabjorn squirm,” Mallus whispered out of the corner of his mouth as Sabjorn poured out a goblet of mead for Caius.

“Well Sabjorn, now that you’ve taken care of your little pest problem, how about I get a taste of some of your mead?” said Caius.

Sabjorn handed over the goblet graciously. “Help yourself mi’lord. It’s my finest brew yet… I call it Honningbrew Reserve. I think you’ll find it quite pleasing to your palate.”

Caius shook his head, smirking. “Come now, this is mead. Not some wine to be sipped and savoured.” He lifted the goblet to his lips and downed the contents in a single swig. In a matter of seconds, the smirk slipped from his face, same as the goblet from his hand as it hit the floor and rolled towards Valkari’s feet. The three men didn’t notice her stuff it into her pack as Caius doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“W-what’s in this?” He groaned.

Valkari had never seen a man look quite as terrified as Sabjorn in that moment, his face frightened and confused.

“I-I’m not sure. What’s wrong?”

Caius’ face turned red as he straightened up again with a great deal of difficulty. He glowered at Sabjorn who shrunk dramatically beneath his withering gaze.

“You assured me this place was clean!” roared the Captain. “I’ll see you… See you clapped in irons for the rest of your days!”

“I don’t understand…” squeaked Sabjorn, looking frightfully to Mallus and Valkari for help. Neither of them said a word.

“Silence idiot! I should have known better than to trust this place… After it’s been riddled with filth!”

The Captain was now swaying slightly on the spot, one hand still clutching his stomach, but he looked perfectly serious.

“I beg you please!” cried Sabjorn. “This is not what it seems!”

Caius ignored him entirely, turning to Mallus.

“You! You’re in charge until I can sort all of this out,” he snapped before crossing to the door and pointing to Sabjorn. “And you, you’re coming with me to Dragonsreach. We’ll see how quickly your memory clears in the city’s prison. Now… Move.”

He really didn’t look well, his face now turning grey like day old porridge.

“Look, I assure you this is all just a huge misunderstanding,” said Sabjorn, trying hard to keep his voice level.

But it seemed Caius’ patience was at an end. He reached for his sword and pulled it from its scabbard, pointing it right at Sabjorn.

“I said, move,” he growled.

Looking to Mallus helplessly once more, Sabjorn finally conceded and followed the Captain out of the meadery.

Once the door was shut, Mallus turned to Valkari with a wide grin across his face.

“Well would you look at that. The little runt has some bite after all,” he remarked. “I don’t think that could have gone any better.”

“I need to get a look at Sabjorn’s books,” Valkari replied, ignoring the runt comment. “Maven wants to find out who Sabjorn’s private partner is. She didn’t seem to happy that he became competition at all.”

Mallus shrugged and handed over a small brass key. “You’re welcome to take a look in Sabjorn’s office. He keeps most of his private papers stashed in his desk. It’s through the doors, up the stairs to the right – can’t miss it.”

Nodding, Valkari took the key and got up from her seat. As Mallus walked away she spied a small purse of coins tied to his belt. He didn’t notice a thing as she swiped it – payback for the runt comment.

Valkari hurried through the next room, up the stairs and into Sabjorn’s office. There were plenty of valuables in here, and considering that Sabjorn never gave her the other half of her payment, it was fair pickings to cover the rest. A few coins, some jewels and some fancy looking ornaments lined her pack before she turned to the desk. She unlocked the drawer and pawed through the papers inside. Most were for his investments and settling matters about suppliers and the property. Nothing that identified his main investor.

Then she found what she was looking for. Marking the top of a sheet of parchment was the same black symbol from Goldenglow, and below it read:

_Sabjorn,_

_Within the enclosed crate, you'll find the final payment. As we discussed, Honningbrew Meadery should now begin brewing mead at full production. In regards to your concerns about interference from Maven Black-Briar, I can assure you that I'll do everything in my power to keep her assets and her cronies at bay. This is the beginning of a long and successful future for both of us._

[]

It was almost like Maven hadn’t budged since Valkari had left Riften. She sat in the same chair, in the same parlour with the same flagon in front of her. Her eyes narrowed as Valkari crossed the room and held out the note.

“I found this in Sabjorn’s desk in Honningbrew,” she reported as Maven took the note. “It refers to his partner.”

Her eyes scanned the page and narrowed even further as she looked back up at Valkari – it wasn’t a happy look she was giving her.

“This doesn’t tell me much. The only way to identify Sabjorn is from this odd symbol.”

“It’s the same one I found on the Bill of Sale in Goldenglow ma’am,” Valkari explained. “It would seem it’s the same person, whoever they might be.”

Maven’s lips pressed into a thin line and her nostrils flared dangerously.

“Well, whoever this mysterious marking represents will regret starting a war with me,” she said in the same soft, menacing voice from before. “You should bring this information to the Thieves Guild immediately. There’s also the matter of your payment. I believe you’ll find that this more than adequate for your services.”

She pulled out the fattest bag of gold Valkari had ever laid eyes on and placed it on the desk. Valkari bowed politely as she took the gold and pocketed it. And with their business concluded, she wasted no time in leaving Maven’s presence as quickly as possible.


	4. New Faces, Old Favours

To say that Valkari’s discovery at Honningbrew had improved morale amongst the rest of the guild would be a lie. It fed worry that their luck was taking another turn for the worse, rather than the better. A powerful, well-funded enemy was a dangerous one if they managed to come between the guild and Maven – another of its failings in Valkari’s opinion. No one liked to admit just how dependent the guild had become on Maven just to survive, but that didn’t change the facts. Her grip was powerful, and if she decided the guild was a liability rather than an advantage, it would be floundering like a fish out of water.

But for now, Valkari had her orders to carry out more work for Delvin and Vex, with a few more special jobs in some of the other holds that only improved our foothold. The guild now had clients in Hjaalmarch and the Reach, after Valkari had framed a sea captain for smuggling and retrieved a special mold that had been stolen by some bandits. The traps guarding the mold (and the mountain of other treasures she had hauled back) had been challenging, but she walked out with only a couple of scratches at the most.

More merchants had arrived in the Flagon to set up shop and the guild even had a few new members joining up in search of their fortunes. If not for the worry over their mysterious adversary, everyone would be in much better spirits about it.

Mercer however was more angry than worried. Half the time he was storming about the place like a human thunder cloud or was scribbling angry notes to his contacts in search of the owner of the odd symbol. Of everyone in the guild, he seemed to be most affected by the recent goings on. Then again he was the guild master. Everything went through him. Including Maven’s displeasure.

So Valkari was hardly surprised when one evening Brynjolf tapped her on the shoulder and told her that Mercer wanted to see her, after having unearthed a possible lead on the owner of the mysterious mark.

The old breton was waiting at his desk, holding a letter in his hand. As Valkari approached he looked up.

“I’ve been consulting my contacts regarding the information you recovered from Goldenglow Estate and Honningbrew meadery, but no one can identify that symbol,” he explained, wasting no time getting down to business. She expected nothing less. “It would seem our adversary is attempting to take us apart indirectly by angering Maven Black-Briar. Very clever.”

Valkari raised an eyebrow. “You sound like you admire them.”

He gave her a grim smirk. “Naturally. They’re well-funded, patient and have been able to avoid identification for years. But don’t mistake my admiration for complacency; our nemesis is going to pay dearly.”

“And you couldn’t do that unless you knew who they were,” she remarked. “How’d you manage that?”

“Because.” His smirk took a much more malicious twist. “Even after all their careful planning and posturing… They’ve made a mistake.” He picked up a sheet of parchment from the desk and threw it in front of her. It was the bill of sale for Goldenglow. “That contract mentions a Gaju-Lei. According to my sources, that’s an old alias used by one of our contacts. His real name is Gulum-Ei. Slimy bastard,” he muttered in a dark undertone.

The name was familiar, though Valkari wasn’t too sure on the details. He wasn’t part of the guild per say, but he paid in his cut in exchange for the guild’s protection. Though lately his cut had dwindled in size. Meagre pickings he claimed. Getting a little too big for his boots, most in the guild thought.

“So track down Gulum-Ei and learn who the buyer was? Where do I start?” Valkari asked, clapping her hands together. Mercer sniffed.

“Gulum-Ei is our inside man at the East Empire Company warehouse, over in Solitude. I’m betting he acted as a go-between and that he can finger our buyer. Get out there, shake him down and see what you come up with,” he ordered. “Speak with Brynjolf if you have any questions. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

He returned to the letter in his hand and Valkari knew the conversation was over. She’d speak to Brynjolf and then see what Gulum-Ei could tell her.

[]

Solitude was the capital of Skyrim, and it showed. It was easily one of the nicest cities in the province, if not the nicest. The houses were built from grey stone with brightly painted wooden beams and pretty decorative windows. Trees and flowers grew in abundance in their flowerbeds, brightening up the place, and the people were generally quite friendly and though no one could tell Valkari where to find Gulum-Ei, they were able to point her in the direction of Jeetum-Ja, an argonian who worked down on the docks who might know Gulum-Ei. In fact, it was likely he was the argonian she was looking for.

Valkari stepped into the Winking Skeever and, sure enough, she caught sight of a rather familiar lizard.

Scales such a dark shade of green they were nearly black, beady orange eyes and short horns, she found Gulum-Ei lounging in a dark corner of the pub, nursing a flagon of ale. He looked up and scowled when she walked over and took the seat beside him.

“Nice hiding spot Gulum-Ei,” Valkari commented, her lip curling into a smirk. “Or is it Jeetum-Ja? I do lose track of all your nicknames.”

“You’re Jordis and Brynjolf's brat?” He hissed. “So you actually made it into the guild? But that can’t be true, because I told Mercer I wouldn’t deal with them anymore.”

“I’m not here to deal per say. I’m here about Goldenglow Estate – I’ve been told you know things about what happened there,” Valkari said in a low voice, leaning across the table.

Gulum-Ei shrugged and turned away. “I don’t deal in land or property. Now, if you’re looking for goods, you’ve come to the right person.”

Valkari narrowed her eyes and turned her wrist, flashing the dagger strapped to her arm. “You can drop the act now… Gajul-Ei.”

It had the desired effect as Gulum-Ei started and he quickly became uneasy.

“Ah wait, did you say Goldenglow Estate? My apologies. I’m sorry to say I know very little about that… bee farm, was it?”

Valkari fingered the handle of her dagger, not even looking at him now as she said: “You acted as the broker for its new owner.”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. I can’t be expected to remember every deal I handle, now can I?” He sniffed, recomposing himself quickly.

“And what would it take to jog your memory?” she asked quietly.

Gulum-Ei glanced around. “Now that you mention it, there is something I’ve been trying to get my hands on. I have a buyer looking for a case of Firebrand Wine. And there just so happens to be a single case in the Blue Palace. Bring it to me, and we’ll talk about Goldenglow Estate.”

“Deal.”

A favour for a favour. It shouldn’t be too difficult to steal one case of wine, after all.

[]

The Blue Palace was open to the public; most of the time it was for those seeking an audience with High King Torygg, but there were usually visitors to admire the beauty of the palace. It was no trouble at all for Valkari to slip away without being spotted by the guards, and the servants were all busy preparing dinner for the King and Queen’s meal tonight. Surely they wouldn’t notice one stray case of wine going missing?

In fact, Valkari found several cases of Firebrand Wine right outside of the kitchens, all stacked up one on top of the other. She grabbed one from the top and tucked it into her pack. Far too easy a job.

“I’m telling you, it’s haunted.”

“Nonsense, there’s no such thing.”

Valkari nearly jumped out of her skin at the sounds of voices drawing closer down the corridor. She dashed away and glanced around for a place to hide. There was an old, wooden door a little further down the hallway. There were precious few other options so she shrugged and tugged on the handle. It was locked.

The voices were drawing nearer and Valkari had no doubts that she wasn’t supposed to be down here. She didn’t want to imagine the awkward questions that would surely follow if she were to be caught.

Valkari pulled out her lock picks and coaxed the door open. A pair of servants rounded the corner, but neither of them spotted her boot whipping through the crack in the door.

She waited a few moments, her ear pressed to the door as she waited for them to leave. After a few minutes, the conversation faded and the danger had passed. Valkari let out a sigh of relief before taking a look around the room she had found myself in.

By the looks of it, it had been locked up for years. The furniture was all covered in white sheets, and nearly every inch of the room was covered in dust and cobwebs. Fortunately the webs were made by smaller house spiders rather It looked as though she’d managed to wander into an entire other wing, rather than just a room. It couldn’t hurt to poke around for a few valuables she supposed.

The staff had left behind quite a lot when they closed up this wing of the palace. Silver platters, golden plates encrusted with gems, fancy cutlery and a couple of decorative vases. These had to be worth a fair amount, so Valkari gathered as many as I could carry without being hindered. She could always stash them in a cache before returning to Gulum-Ei and pick them up once her business in Solitude was done.

As she explored the second floor, Valkari felt a strange prickling sensation on the back of her neck as the hairs stood on end. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. Perhaps it would be a good time to head back. Hopefully those servants she’d overheard would be gone by now.

But as she turned back down the corridor in the direction of the door, something pressed against the inside of her skull. It was both stiflingly warm, yet freezing cold; joyous yet despairing; it was everything yet nothing at all.

Without warning, her body went limp, her knees gave out beneath her and her mind went blank before she could even hit the floor.

[]

When she came to, she felt hard earth beneath her and it was bone-chillingly cold. With a groan, Valkari rolled onto her back before pushing herself up into a sitting position, staring at her new surroundings.

“Shit…” she murmured. “This isn’t the Blue Palace…”

It certainly wasn’t. In fact she had no idea _where_ she was right now, except that she was a long way from Solitude. She was standing in the middle of some sort of forest and what a creepy forest it was. The trees were all dead and gnarled, and a dense mist hung in the air.

Steadily, Valkari got to her feet and glanced down. Her armour was gone, replaced with a new set - black as midnight, it was  a set of fine leathers with ebon plating across her chest and legs, and with clawed gauntlets. Elaborate runes were inscribed into the surprisingly lightweight metal, all in what appeared to be daedric script. Valkari groped over her shoulder, only to find thin air. Her bow and quiver were gone. She was alone in a strange forest and with no means to defend herself. Wonderful.

A cutting breeze blew through the trees and Valkari swore she had heard it whispering in her ear as it nipped at her skin, almost beckoning her forwards. She didn’t like this. It felt far too much like the stories she had heard about daedra and their tricks on mortals. And such tricks usually ended up with dead mortals. But Valkari had little choice if she wanted to find a way back to Solitude. Standing here got her nowhere after all.

So she followed the whispers in the breeze, as though they were guiding her. It was almost certainly a trap, but if one knew about a trap, it could be disarmed.

Slowly, the trees began to thin out until Valkari found herself standing on the fringes of a large clearing. And in the centre was a long stone table, where two people sat, and another stood beside the one furthest from Valkari. One of them had to be able to tell her where she was, surely.

But as she drew closer to the table, Valkari noticed something very odd about these people. The man closest, with his back turned to her, was wearing rich silks and furs and a crown adorned his brow. The other man was seated on a throne of stone, and was wearing a coloured suit of orange and purple. But what stood out most was not His suit, it was His eyes. They were bright gold with cat-like slits and Valkari got the horrible feeling that He was the last person she wanted to talk to. It didn’t help that the man standing at His shoulder was draped in long black robes – too ominous for her liking.

“More tea, Pelly m’dear?” asked the suited man, picking up a large silver teapot.

The imperial man shook his head dolefully. “I couldn’t. It goes straight through me. Besides, I’ve got many things to do… So many undesirables to contend with.” He heaved a sigh. “Naysayers. Buffoons. Detractors… Why, my headsman hasn’t slept in three days!”

“You’re far too hard on yourself my dear, sweet, homicidally insane Pelagius!” cried his companion. “What would the people do without you? Dance? Sing? Smile? Grow old?” He cackled, and Valkari paused halfway across the clearing, not sure if she should get any closer. It might just be safer to run until she found a way out.

The suited man pointed dramatically at the other man, Pelagius. “ _You_ , are the best Septim that’s ever ruled! …Well except Martin. But he turned into a Dragon God, and that’s hardly sporting. You know, I saw that _whole_ sordid affair, marvellous times. Butterflies, blood, a fox, a severed head! And the cheese! To _die_ for.”

“I believe you’ve said that before my Lord,” said the robed man in a soft, yet bitter voice.

“Countless times, in fact,” grumbled Pelagius.

“Harrumph! Well if you’re going to be that way, then perhaps it’s best I take my leave! A good day to you sir, I said good day!”

“Yes, yes, go. Leave me to my ceaseless responsibilities and burdens…”

And in a puff of violet smoke, he was gone.

“How rude!” bemoaned the suited man. “Can’t even be bothered to host an old friend for a decade or two! Oh well. Now, what have we here?”

Valkari flinched as He turned His eyes to her with a look of curiosity on His face. Valkari stayed where she was, rooted to the spot.

“Well now Matty, pull up a seat for our new guest,” He said to the other man.

‘Matty’ as the suited man called him strode over and for the first time, Valkari glimpsed his face and gasped. Half of it was horribly disfigured by burns, leaving the distinct appearance that half of his face had melted off. His had pale eyes with dark circles, so prominent he looked ill and there was a rather twisted, bitter look on his face as he led her rather forcefully to the table. He returned to his Lord’s side and folded his hands behind his back.

“Tea?” asked the suited man, holding up the tea pot.

“No thank you,” Valkari said quietly.

“Hm? What was that?” He asked, holding a hand to His ear.

“No thank you,” Valkari repeated, louder this time.

“Such good manners,” He commented, setting the teapot to one side. “Someone taught you well, unlike Matty here.” He shot Matty an ugly glare. "Don't think I forgot what you did."

Matty said nothing.

“I’m sorry but… Where are we?” Valkari dared to ask, shifting uncomfortably in her seat at the hateful glare that Matty was giving her now.

“In the mind of Pelagius the Third, silly,” the suitedd man said brightly. “Oh, is it your first time?”

Valkari swallowed hard, wondering who on earth this man could possibly be, and whether or not He was completely sane.

“You know, you look nothing like her,” He remarked as He looked Valkari over. “Well you have the nose, I suppose. No, it’s his eyes you’ve got – Lucien's. That's good, he did have the loveliest eyes. A real shame what happened to him, but then that was just the affect that poor, tragic Aerrun had on people. They always had a nasty habit of winding up dead.”

Valkari’s palms were becoming slick with sweat as He guffawed at what He probably supposed was a joke. Definitely not sane then.

“And the armour looks good on you. Black’s always a good colour - guess that runs in the family too. It was Aerrun's once - I gave it to her before she decided being me was too troublesome. Always was selfish like that.”

That made no sense.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but you wouldn’t know the way out would you? I need to get back to Solitude. Someone’s expecting me.”

“So soon? But don’t you want to stay for the strawberry tart?” His eyes narrowed dangerously.

“I’d love to, but it’s urgent. My boss will kill me if I take too long…” Valkari swallowed.

The suited man sat back in His seat, fingertips pressed together as He regarded her, thinking deeply.

"Now isn't that a conundrum... Well alright. I suppose you weren't _really_ the one who wronged me, was she Matty?" Matty remained silent and stony faced, though Valkari was guessing he didn't agree. "So I'll let you go. That's right. Back to your work so that I and your boss won't have to flay you alive! But...! On one condition. You have to find the way out first. Good luck with that."

"Okay, so what's the catch?"

"Ha! I do love it when the mortals know they're being manipulated. Makes things infinitely more interesting. But first! A question for you," He said, grinning devilishly. "Do you know who I am?"

Valkari swallowed. "I'm afraid I don't, sir."

"Wrong!" He bellowed, His grin widening. "Actually, you do. Sort of. I am a part of you, little mortal. I am a shadow in your subconscious, a blemish on your fragile little psyche. You know me. You just don't know it." He got to His feet and did a deep bow. "Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness. At your service."

That was not what she'd expected. Not what she'd expected at all. She stared, dumbstruck, and felt her stomach sinking horribly.

A Daedric Prince, and one as unpredictable as Sheogorath. That complicated things.

Sheogorath simply continued grinning, seating Himself back in His throne.

"Okay... Any suggestions how I do that?" Valkari asked, trying desperately hard to keep her composure.

"Care to take a look around? This is not, I dare say, the Solitude botanical gardens. Have you any idea where you are? Where you truly are?" Sheogorath waved a hand around the desolate clearing and misty woods surrounding them. "Welcome to the deceptively verdant mind of the Emperor Pelagius III. That's right! You're in the head of a dead, homicidally insane monarch."

Well things just got better and better.

"Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Can I still rely on my swords and arrows and sneaking and all that nonsense?' Sure, sure. Or... you could use..."

He clicked His fingers and a staff materialised in Valkari's hands. She flinched, nearly dropping it. The top of the staff was carved into the shape of three faces, one angry, one sad, and one happy, all joined together, and it radiated the thrumming energy of magicka.

"The Wabbajack! Huh? Huh? Didn't see that coming, did you?"

[]

There were three paths leading away from the central clearing, and Valkari supposed that the only way to find a way out of the strange realm would be to follow them and see what Sheogorath had in mind. As she walked down the left path, she came to a stone archway. The air was chillingly cold and she could swear she felt ice creeping into her very bones as she passed through.

"Oh, good choice!" boomed Sheogorath's voice, echoing in her ear. Valkari spun on the spot, but the space behind her was empty. There was no sign of the Mad God.

"Well, good for me. I find everyone being out to get you so terribly entertaining. You might find it... less so."

As Valkari proceeded forwards, an arena loomed out of the mist. Crumbling and decadent, it was ancient and looked abandoned. At least until the flashes of lightning and roaring of thunder filled the air, causing the ground to shake. Valkari kept her balance, feeling her stomach turn horribly.

"You see, Pelagius' mother was... well... let us say 'unique.' Although, I suppose in the grand scheme of things, she was fairly average for a Septim. That woman wielded fear like a cleaver. Or did she wield a cleaver and make people afraid? I never get that part right... Oh, but she taught her son well. Pelagius learned at a very early age that danger could come from anywhere. At any time. Delivered... by anyone.

There were steps leading up the side of the arena and Valkari made her way up, pausing with every quake for fear of falling back down. Upon arriving safely at the top, she looked out over the arena itself. On the other side was the man she'd seen earlier dining with Sheogorath. Pelagius. In the thrones behind him were two men, armoured and masked, and in the arena below two storm atronauchs were wrestling fiercely. Bolts of lightning were thrown off by their bodies, flying up the sides of the arena with a crash, reducing portions of the seating to rubble.

"The objective here is simple, you simpleton! Use your Wabbajack to defeat the enemy, while they do the same!"

Valkari took the Wabbajack. She had no magical talent to speak of, no source of magicka to draw upon. Perhaps Sheogorath knew this. Maybe this was all some sick trick. But she had to try something.

She aimed the tip of the staff at one of the atronauchs and a burst of dark purple energy erupted from it, enveloping the atronauch. There was a startling flash of light, nearly blinding, but it didn't seem to do anything and the two daedra continued their battle, unperturbed.

Valkari frowned, looking down at the Wabbajack.

"Hmm... Your creature doesn't appear to be faring any better than before. Methinks your aim is off."

Her frown deepened and she thought.

Pelagius' problem was paranoia. The atronauchs were an obvious threat. Even in the arena, they could very easily reach him and do him very real harm. Fearing that wasn't paranoid, it was rational. So where was the irrational fear?

She glanced back towards Pelagius who was still watching the daedra fighting below. There were two people seated behind him. Both in a perfect position to strike if they so chose.

"This had better work," she muttered, aiming the Wabbajack at the man left of Pelagius. The purple energy flew across the arena and struck him before arching to his companion sitting next to him.

There was a flash of violet light and the two men vanished, replaced by a pair of wolves that leapt at Pelagius who yelled, ripping his sword from its scabbard, bringing it down on the first wolf, cutting its head clean off. The next he ran through, and there was a great whooping from Sheogorath.

"Oho! I thought you'd never figure it out!" He cheered, and Pelagius, the wolves, the atronauchs and the arena disappeared.

Valkari fell to the ground with a yell, though she held on tightly to the Wabbajack as she hit the ground, the air forced from her chest.

"With the threat gone Pelagius is under the delusion that he is safe, which means you've helped him out. Sort of. And we're that much closer to home."

She got to her feet tenderly as Sheogorath's presence receded, and the worst of the chill seemed to die away. Maybe it was just her head spinning from hitting the ground, but the shadows in the woods didn't seem so deep all of a sudden. The landscape was no less creepy, but something had changed. Perhaps she was making a difference after all. And that meant there was more to do.

[]

The next two tasks took their own brand of thinking to overcome, but sure enough she managed. Valkari retreated back down the final path as Pelagius rose from his sleep, bleary eyed but no longer terrorised by his dreams.

"Well now, that's something to crow about," Sheogorath cheered. "With Pelagius up and about you're moving right along. We'll both be home in no time."

The cold had dimmed to a minor chill and the mist had retreated. The trees were still bare and withered and the ground was still hard and cold, but even so the general creepiness seemed to have diminished. Like it was on the mend, almost.

When she got back to the clearing, Sheogorath and Matty were still occupying their places. The latter almost looked displeased to see her approach, and Sheogorath looked around at her curiously.

"I've fixed Pelagius' mind," Valkari declared.

"Hmmmm... 'Fixed' is such a subjective term. I think 'treated' is far more appropriate, don't you? Like one does to a rash, or an arrow in the face," He said thoughtfully, waggling a finger at her. "Ah, but no matter. Heartless mortal that you are, you've actually succeeded and survived. I am forced to honor my end of the bargain. So congratulations! You're free to go...! I... have been known to change my mind. So... go. Really."

"I take it you want this back?" Valkari asked, holding out the Wabbajack, and to her surprise, Sheogorath just shook His head.

"Ah, my little mortal minion. Feel free to keep the Wabbajack. As a symbol of my... Oh, just take the damn thing," He said rather dismissively, rising to His feet. "You take care of yourself, now. And if you ever find yourself up in New Sheoth, do look me up. We can share a strawberry tart. Here's one for the road! Ta ta!"

He snapped His fingers and a strawberry tart did indeed appear in her hands. Another snap and there was a jolt in the lower region of her abdomen as she felt herself falling backwards. But she never hit the ground, rather it felt like she was being squeezed through a very thin tube and when her feet hit solid ground again, her knees buckled and she fell forwards, catching herself with her hands just in time, causing the strawberry tart to splatter across the ground and the Wabbajack to clatter across the floor, rolling to a halt nearby.

She was back in the Blue Palace, now back in her regular Thieves Guild armour, but now with her weapons returned to her. Once she caught her balance, Valkari wasted no time in leaving the wing as quickly as possible, the Wabbajack stuffed in between some crates. She had no desire to try and explain why she was carrying a daedric artefact with her, and Gulum-Ei would be wanting his wine.

[]

Gulum-Ei was very pleased to see Valkari with the case of wine tucked under her arm. He held out a hand to take it, but she pulled it out of his reach, holding up a finger.

“First, you tell me everything I want to know about Goldenglow. Then I’ll give you the wine.”

“I won’t talk until I have my goods,” hissed Gulum-Ei.

She quirked an eyebrow and released the case. She heard the argonian let out a strangled gasp as she latched her finger around the handle, stopping it from smashing across the floor.

“Alright, alright you little brat,” he snapped, muttering something about ‘Jordis' little shit’. “As far as Goldenglow Estate goes, I’ll tell you what I know. I was approached by a woman who wanted me to act as the broker for something big. She flashed a bag of gold in my face and said all I had to do was pay Aringoth for the estate. I brought him the gold and walked away with her copy of the deed.”

“Did she say why she was doing all of this?” Valkari asked, still holding the case precariously by a fingertip, all too aware of the way Gulum-Ei’s eyes kept flickering over to it.

“Not at all. I tend not to ask too many questions when I’m on the job. I’m sure you understand,” he said smoothly. “However I did notice that she was quite angry, and it was directed at Mercer Frey.”

Valkari frowned. “That’s it? No name, or anything?”

Gulum-Ei shook his head. “In this business, we don’t deal in names girl. Our identity comes from how much coin we carry.”

“I think you’re lying to me,” she hissed, holding the case a little further away from him.

She recognised the worried look in his eyes, but he continued to persist. “Look girl, I never said I’d have all of the answers. Now, if you’ll give me that and I’ll be on my way.”

He reached for the case again, but this time she let it fall. He scrambled to grab it, but it slipped through his fingers and the wine bottles shattered. The case splintered and shards of glass went skidding across the floor as the wine leaked out.

“Why you little-!” Gulum-Ei roared, but before he could pull a weapon, Valkari reached into her pack and produced a second case of wine. Gulum-Ei’s eyes bulged and he looked between her and the second case.

“I had the feeling you might try weaselling your way out of telling me everything, so I grabbed two of them. And now, this is the last one,” she warned. “The rest have already been poured out for the Torygg’s feast tonight. You tell me everything, right now, or your buyer is going to have to spend their coin elsewhere.”

It was almost fun to watch the argonian sweat, as he weighed his options. Valkari spied the coin purse on his belt and her lip curled some more as she pulled out her dagger and pointed it at him.

“But you don’t have to worry about that, do you? You seem to have plenty of Septims already. What’s a few more over one case of wine? Oh right…” She placed the dagger right over his heart and she could see the fear in his eyes. “Pickings are supposed to be slim right now, aren’t they? Yet to have so much coin… Surely there must be enough to share with the guild. Unless you really thought you could sneak behind Mercer’s back with a few extra goods. Now, tell me the buyer’s name.”

“Point that thing somewhere else first,” he growled.

“Tell me the name or I smash this case too,” she retorted, digging the dagger’s tip ever so slightly beneath his scales, tearing a small hole in his shirt.

“Point it somewhere else!”

“Tell me the name!”

Finally, he gave in and cried: “Alright! It’s Karliah! Her name is Karliah!”


	5. Sanctum of Lies

Valkari nearly dropped her dagger in surprise. Karliah. That certainly wasn't what she'd expected to hear, and she doubted Mercer was going to like this.

Valkari had been very small when Karliah was still a part of the guild. She was a master thief and was reputed for her skill and unmatched success. She and the former guildmaster, Gallus, had been intimate… Before she murdered him in cold blood, at least. It had been ten years ago, Delvin had said, that Karliah fled Skyrim without leaving a trace of her presence behind following her crime. Even with all the resources and contacts the guild had had at the time, Mercer had been unable to track her down. She'd simply vanished.

"You were helping Karliah?" Valkari snarled, jabbing him with the tip of the dagger. Not enough to draw blood, but it was enough to frighten Gulum-Ei.

"This isn't as bad as it seems," he said quickly, holding out his hands and backing away into the table, knocking his flagon of mead to the ground. "I was going to tell Mercer everything, honestly! Please, he'll have me killed!"

"You were helping a murderer! I'd say you deserve it!" she spat, digging the knife beneath his scales.

Gulum-Ei paled so dramatically that even his scales seemed to whiten with fear. "No, please! I didn't even know it was her until after she contacted me! Please, you have to believe me!"

Valkari narrowed her eyes. "Where is Karliah now? What does she want?"

"She's after Mercer, but I don't know where she is. When I asked her where she was going, she just muttered 'where the end began.'"

Slowly, Valkari lowered the knife and held out the case of wine. Just as slowly, Gulum-Ei took it and tucked it under his arm, still giving her a very wary look.

"You'd better hope that Mercer decides you're more valuable alive than dead," she hissed, tucking the blade back into her bracer.

Gulum-Ei swallowed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of parchment.

"Here, it's the deed to Goldenglow Estate," he murmured, thrusting it into her hand. "When you speak to Mercer, tell him that he's got nothing to gain from killing me."

"Just make sure your next cut is what it should be," she replied, tucking the parchment into her pocket. "If it's not satisfactory, I'm sure Mercer wouldn't mind having a look in that warehouse for himself."

He nodded, still dreadfully pale. Funny how much bite a fifteen year old could have really. Enough to frighten grown men like they were little boys.

Valkari stepped to one side and let him pass. His tail whipped out of sight through the door and she let out a heavy sigh.

She was not looking forward to telling Mercer about this.

[]

"Did Gulum-Ei give up any information on our buyer?" asked Mercer when Valkari walked over. He didn't sound like he was expecting much, so when she placed the deed in front of him, he raised his eyebrows.

"It took a little work, but he gave up in the end. You're not going to like it."

Mercer's eyes narrowed dangerously and she took a deep breath.

"It's Karliah."

Nearby, Niruin had been practising with a bow when he jerked his head up in shock. The arrow flew far right and caught Thrynn right in his left buttock. Those furthest who hadn't heard her were roaring with laughter as the former-bandit ripped the arrow free and turned on the bosmer with a bestial look on his face. Niruin had the good sense to run and for a moment, the whole scene looked comical as laughter bounced off of the walls, mingled with Niruin's terrified yelling and Thyrnn's roar.

"ENOUGH!" roared Mercer as he slammed his fist onto the desk, silencing them all at once.

Valkari had never seen him so angry. His teeth were bared and his nostrils were flared – he looked so dangerous that even Thrynn didn't dare open his mouth to complain.

Mercer began to pace behind the desk, muttering darkly beneath his breath. Everyone watched, with no one daring to breathe until he seemed to remember they were all still standing there.

"Get out! ALL OF YOU OUT!" He yelled. Everyone was tripping over one another to get out of the room before Mercer needed to repeat himself. Valkari was close behind Sapphire when Mercer said: "Except for you Val."

She froze and felt her heart sink as she looked back. He still looked ready to breathe fire, but she knew better than to piss him off any more than he already was. So she trudged back to the desk and waited. He was glaring at her.

"You're certain he said Karliah?" he growled. Valkari nodded. "Then this is grave news indeed. She's someone I hoped to never cross paths with again."

"Why would she come back?" Valkari dared to ask, flinching as his dark eyes snapped back to her.

"Karliah and I were like partners," he grunted. "I went with her on every heist, and we watched each other's backs. I know her techniques, her skills. If she kills me, there'll be no one left who could possibly catch her. If only we knew where she was…"

"Gulum-Ei said that, when he asked her where she was going, she only said 'where the end began'.”.

His expression turned stony. "There's only one place that could be. The place where she murdered Gallus… A ruin called Snow Veil Sanctum." He scratched his chin thoughtfully, resuming his pacing before coming to an abrupt halt again. "We have to go out there and catch her before she disappears again."

Valkari frowned, cocking her head to one side. "We?"

"Yes, I'm going with you and together we're going to kill her," he snapped before reaching into the draw of the desk. "Here's your payment for Solitude. Prepare yourself, we head for the ruins in an hour. We can't let her slip through our fingers."

Valkari caught the coin purse and nodded. Mercer simply jerked his head and she knew she was excused.

The Flagon was rumbling with whispers and gossip, no doubt because of Mercer's outburst. Valkari had personally never seen it before and needless to say, her heart was still thumping so painfully in her chest that she was sure her ribs would be bruised. But the moment she stepped into the light of the fire in the Flagon, it fell completely silent as all eyes turned on her.

"Karliah's back," Valkari said shortly. "And Mercer wants me to help kill her."

"He wants you to what?" Vex leapt to her feet and strode past Valkari. "Goldenglow was one thing, but he wants to drag you off to hunt down Karliah?! Now that bastard really has lost it!"

"Vex-!"

"Don't try it kiddo," she snarled. "I'm not having him throwing you into the fire!"

Valkari didn't know if she should groan or feel touched that Vex was being so protective, but she knew that it was a waste of time. Mercer was a stubborn old bastard, and once his mind was made up, that was it. So it was an even bigger surprise that Brynjolf and Tonilia followed after her.

"Pa…"

"No lass," he said firmly. "Vex is right. Goldenglow was bad enough, Karliah is an experienced killer. You stay here and we'll sort this out."

And like that, they was gone. Valkari turned back to the others in disbelief.

"Does everyone have so little faith in me?" she asked loudly, which caused everyone to shift uncomfortably.

"It's not that we don't have faith in you Val," Delvin said lowly. "But… This is Karliah we're talking about. You might be a good shot, but she's better."

"And this isn't your fight. I bet you don't even remember what Gallus looked like," grunted Dirge.

"What we're trying to say Val," interjected Sapphire, "is that you're a good thief and all, but you're still just a kid. And no one wants to be the one to say they sent a kid into a death trap."

There was a general murmur of agreement and the others nodded. Valkari scowled, turned her nose up and stalked out of the Flagon. A kid huh? She'd show them what a kid could do.

[]

Predictably, Mercer was not to be budged and no matter how many arguments Brynjolf and Tonilia came up with, and regardless how many threats Vex pulled out of the hat, his mind was not to be changed. Valkari was to go with him to Snow Veil Sanctum and help him kill Karliah and there would be no further debates. Brynjolf went as far as offering to go himself, but Mercer just wasn't hearing it.

"I've said it already, Brynjolf. I'm taking the girl, and you'll oversee things until we get back. Now back to work, all of you!" He had barked, silencing all further protests.

So now Mercer and Valkari were sitting in a carriage bound for Winterhold. From there they'd head south for the ruins and hunt down Karliah inside. With any luck she was still there and wouldn't know they were coming, yet Valkari got the feeling that Karliah knew well enough that the guild was on her trail and would be prepared.

Valkari ran a hand over the quiver of ebony arrows Tonilia had given her – of course she'd charged, but even so, arrows like this shouldn't be so cheap. In fact it had felt very much like Goldenglow all over again with the way they saw her off, like they expected never to see her again. She could understand why, after all she knew of Karliah. She still had vague memories of watching her training in the Cistern, and her mastery of the bow was undeniable. But she was with Mercer. Surely she was safer with him than she was alone?

The weather turned colder as they travelled through Eastmarch, yet neither thief said a word. Mercer sat rigidly, staring off into the distance, his fingers locked around the handle of his sword as his breath rose in tiny clouds of mist. Valkari had never seen him so on edge, which said a lot considering it was Mercer. She'd never known the man to relax, not even for a second, yet this was intense even for him.

On the horizon Valkari could see the College towering over the shell of the city left behind. The Great Collapse had happened nearly seventy years ago, and it was evident that Winterhold was never going to recover from the disaster. All that remained of a supposedly once-prosperous city was now a small handful of buildings and the College, where the mages studied. The carriage came to a halt outside the local inn, the Frozen Hearth, but Mercer immediately proceeded down the road out of the city and Valkari had to jog to keep up.

For hours they walked, battling against the harsh winds. The cold didn't bother Valkari much, but she swore she could hear Mercer's teeth chattering. By the time they arrived at Snow Veil Sanctum, it was the middle of the night and the wind was howling. Karliah had better be there. Valkari didn't like not being able to see what might be creeping about out in the blizzard.

Mercer wasted no time in scouting the area for signs of Karliah. If she'd left footprints, the blizzard had covered them up. Valkari tested the door into the ruins, but it remained tightly locked. Her attempts to pick the lock failed, and she gave up before she could waste anymore lockpicks.

"Val!"

She looked up to see Mercer coming down the steps. He was tucking his bloodied sword back into its sheath.

"Did you find her?" she called back over the roar of the wind.

He shook his head. "No, I found her horse. Don't worry I've taken care of it. But it means she's still inside, so we can expect traps."

Valkari nodded then glanced at the door.

"I've tried to get it open, but that lock won't budge," she said, showing him the broken pick. He shook his head, chuckling.

"They say some of these ancient nord burial mounds are impossible to open," he explained, walking over to the door and kneeling down. "This one doesn't look too difficult."

Valkari couldn't see what he was doing, but it seemed to work as the bars covering the door slid out of the way.

"You take point," Mercer ordered.

"You want me to lead?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Yes, did I stutter? You lead, I follow. Or did someone hold your hand on all those jobs?" he sneered.

Valkari got the point and pushed the door open, and the smell of dust and decay hit her head on. She hated crypts.

[]

The ruin was crawling with draugr, undead creatures with glowing blue eyes and a nasty habit of attacking any invaders who entered their tombs. Getting past them was easy enough. They were clever for undead, but not quite as cunning as something that was alive. Valkari was more concerned about the traps Karliah had left behind for them – poison darts, a wall of spikes that snapped around if you stepped on the pressure pad and swinging axes, to name a few. But with enough care and patience, they could all be avoided.

Of course Mercer liked to critique her every step of the way – every other footstep was a little too loud, and the one time she missed a draugr wight made her a lousy shot. But regardless he watched her back and warned her if he spotted a trap that she might have missed. And sometimes when she pulled off a particularly impressive shot, he gave an impressed snort. The closest he ever got to a compliment.

After nearly an hour, they came into a huge hall with dozens of coffins. And it seemed they couldn't just sneak through this time.

Draugr always seemed a little disoriented when they first climbed out of their stone coffins, so it was the perfect opportunity to strike. Valkari managed to shoot the skull clean off of one's neck before it even fully stepped out of the coffin and it promptly collapsed. Mercer preferred to tear forwards, swinging both of his swords with chilling accuracy. Valkari vaulted a crumbled stone pillar as a draugr deathlord pursued her across the chamber and she took a brief moment to ready an arrow.

It bounced off of the draugr's helmet and she leapt out of the way just in time before it brought its axe down where her head had been only moments before. She rolled across the floor, readying another arrow before it could pry its axe free from the stone. This time she caught it in one of its neck bones and its head fell off, causing the whole thing to collapse into a pile of bones.

Breathing a little harder, Valkari straightened up when she swore she heard a whisper. She glanced around and realised she was standing at the foot of a giant, curved wall covered in what looked like claw marks. The whispering was coming from there.

As though suddenly possessed, Valkari approached the wall and stroked her fingers across the surface.

Not claw marks. They were words. Words she couldn't understand, but she knew they were words regardless. One in particular stood out to her. It was almost glowing and the whispering grew louder in her ears.

"Zun…" she murmured, staring at it as the whispered chant swelled louder and louder as the word burned into her mind.

"Valka…" The shout was distant, like she was under water. Valkari then realised that she was flat on her back and someone was shaking her. "Valkari… Val!"

Mercer swam into view, his brow creased as she blinked and pushed herself up, staring around.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded. "One minute you're staring at this wall, the next you're out cold."

Valkari frowned. She had passed out?

"I don't know…" she murmured. All that came to mind was that word – Zun. She had no idea what it meant though.

Mercer shook his head and grabbed her arm, hauling her back to her feet and thrusting her bow into her hands.

"Come on. We can't waste any more time, or else Karliah will get away," he snapped. He turned on his heel and marched away. Valkari paused for a moment, straining her ears but the whispering was gone now and so was the burning sensation. Perhaps she had just imagined it.

Valkari hurried after Mercer, who was waiting for her at the door into the next tunnel. Just around the bend was another door which led into a second, albeit smaller chamber. Carvings lined the walls, all depicting men that Valkari presumed were now the draugr who inhabited the crypt. They said that the carvings depicted the history of the crypt, and even contained secrets of hidden treasures.

But that wasn't what they were here for. Waiting at the end of the hall was another door, but this one was most unlike the rest they'd encountered.

Three rings made up this door, with a keyhole in the centre. Each ring bore the marking of an animal and only when they were correctly lined up and with the proper key inserted would it open. And there was no sign of the claw that acted as this door's key.

Mercer approached the door and ran a hand over its surface.

"It's one of the infamous Nordic puzzle doors," he sneered. "How quaint. Without the matching claw, they're usually impossible to open, and since I'm certain Karliah's already done away with it, we're on our own. Fortunately these doors have a weakness, if you know how to exploit it. Quite simple really."

He knelt down and fiddled around with the key hole though once again, he blocked it from Valkari’s view. The rings of the door began to spin, locking into place before it sank down into the floor and out of sight. Mercer stepped back, tucking something into his pocket.

"When we're done here," Valkari said, grinning, "you have _got_ to teach me how to do that."

Mercer smirked. "Do a good job here, and I'll consider it. Now, let's finish this."

She nodded and nocked an arrow ready.

The final chamber was huge, with plenty of places to hide. Sunlight poured in through the hole in the ceiling and dust hung in the air. There were no signs of draugr in here, thank Talos. Valkari proceeded slowly and silently, eyes sharp.

She cried out as the arrowhead sunk deep into her left shoulder, no doubt shattering the bone. She fell to her knees, vainly trying to pull the arrow free but it was too deep and a dull numbness was spreading rapidly from her shoulder. Her fingers began to lock up and she felt light headed. Her body couldn't hold itself up and she collapsed sideways. Poison. Of course.

Her vision was blurring and the room was spinning, the sounds being drowned in a loud buzz. But even Valkari could tell in her drugged state that it was Mercer stepping over her. She tried to open her mouth, but the muscles had all slackened from the poisoned arrow and she was unable to move an inch.

They were speaking, but it was all distorted for a while.

"Did you really think… pierces your heart?" That was Mercer.

"…reason to try…" Was that Karliah? She supposed it had to be.

"…Goldenglow Estate and Honningbrew… inspired…"

"…one's enemies… undermine his allies…" That was definitely Karliah – Gulum-Ei was right, she did sound angry.

"…always were… quick study…" Mercer again, though he sounded rather grudging this time.

Even from here on the ground Valkari could see that neither of them were moving even as they stood opposite one another and only Karliah seemed to be holding a weapon at the ready. What was Mercer waiting for?

"Not quick enough, or else Gallus would still be alive!"

Suddenly, Karliah's words rung as clearly as though she had been standing right next to Valkari and if she could have moved, Valkari would have looked up in shock. The anger in her voice, the hurt and the accusation, were all too obvious. But why were those words directed at Mercer instead of the other way around?

With new focus, Valkari strained her ears to listen and the conversation became much clearer than before.

"Gallus had his wealth, and he had you," spat Mercer. "All he had to do was look the other way."

"Did you forget the oath we took as Nightingales?" Karliah retorted furiously. "Did you expect him to simply ignore your methods?"

But Mercer had clearly had enough as he drew his sword. "Enough of this mindless banter! Come Karliah, it's time for you and Gallus to be reunited!"

Valkari’s eyes flicked over to Karliah as her mind was still trying to make sense of any of this. But Karliah simply threw back her head, lifting something to her lips and she promptly vanished from sight.

"I'm no fool, Mercer," she spat, her voice echoing across the chamber. "I know that crossing blades with you would be a death sentence. But the next time that we meet, I promise that it will be your undoing."

Mercer remained where he was for a few moments, remaining on guard, waiting to see if Karliah would try to attack. But when no arrows flew, he lowered his weapons and re-sheathed them before turning to Valkari.

Her heart ought to have been pounding with the fear she felt then as he approached, yet it remained at its new sluggish pace. If what Karliah had said was true, then what Mercer had said was a lie. But if Mercer had been lying, then what was going to happen to Valkari?

Mercer knelt down and turned her over with surprisingly gentleness. He inspected the arrow before turning his gaze to her face and she saw… Concern? That was new. And not at all what she was expecting. Perhaps she had misheard. Maybe it was the poison on the arrow and everything she thought she had heard was a lie. Yes, that had to be it, there was no way that Mercer had been the one to kill-!

Valkari became aware of something sharp in her abdomen, yet she didn't feel any pain. For a moment she wondered what it was until she cast her eyes down and saw that Mercer's dagger was buried right up to the hilt in her stomach. She stared at it for a moment before looking back up at Mercer. The concern was gone now, and he was wearing a very twisted smile.

"Mercer…?" she managed to utter.

"How interesting," he sneered, twisting the knife a little deeper. Valkari could feel it moving, but the pain that should be there didn't come as the blood leaked out. "It appears Gallus' history has repeated itself."

"Mercer?" she squeaked again, a little more desperate this time. She wanted to push him away, to move, to do something!

"Karliah has provided me with the means to be rid of you, and this ancient tomb becomes your final resting place. But you know what intrigues me the most? That this was all possible because of you."

He twisted the knife and pushed deeper, drawing even more blood.

She was frightened, more than she had ever been in her life. Even more than when she got lost in the Ratway, hiding from its more dangerous denizens, or when her mother had died. She wanted Brynjolf to come, she wanted him to get her away from this madman and to take her home, and assure her everything was going to be okay. They had been right the whole damn time, but for the wrong reason. Karliah wasn't the one Valkari had to be afraid of.

"Farewell, Valkari," Mercer taunted. "Give Jordis my regards. I'll be sure to give Brynjolf your's."

He twisted the knife one final time before tearing it out. He straightened up and walked away as her vision blurred. And she could do nothing but lie there and black out as she bled to death.


	6. Fever Dreams

There was the familiar sound of arrows whizzing through the air and sticking deep into the straw targets as Valkari crept as quietly as she could manage through the cistern towards the training room. It was late and the thieves who weren't out working were asleep, aside from Gallus who was bent over his desk, too focused on his work to notice her, and so that meant none of them were really in a position to put her back to bed.

She followed the sounds of the flying arrows, peering around the corner into the training room. Inside was her mother and Karliah, both with bows drawn and obviously in the midsts of a competition going by the mischievous banter going back and forth between the pair.

"Come now darling, don't they teach you dunmer anything about aiming?" Jordis laughed when Karliah's arrow strayed slightly off from the bullseye.

"Don't give me reason to demonstrate just how good my aim really is," Karliah retorted, lip curled into a smirk. She fired another arrow, this one staying true to its mark and nestling itself in amongst the others in the centre of the target.

"If you need to boast, then you're more concerned than you want to admit."

Valkari watched, fascinated and enthralled as they continued their game, the shots becoming more elaborate, their movements elegant and acrobatic, both beaming broadly in delight at the twists the game took, and Valkari couldn't help but smile along with them. She didn't even notice someone approaching her from behind until she found herself being hoisted into the air by Gallus, who laughed jovially when Valkari squealed. Jordis and Karliah looked up and both grinned, shaking their heads.

"Shouldn't you be in bed, little Nightingale?" Jordis remarked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Don't wanna!" Valkari protested. "Put me down Uncle!"

Gallus simply chuckled and cuddled her up close.

"And if I don't want to?"

He kissed the top of her head and she giggled in spite of herself. Karliah and Jordis approached, slinging their bows over their shoulders, still smiling.

"Little Nightingales need their sleep, love," Jordis said as Gallus passed Valkari to her. "Or how will you ever grow tall and strong?"

"Don't need to be tall to know how to hide," Valkari pointed out, and the adults just laughed.

"The wee lass makes a compelling argument." Valkari squealed in delight as Brynjolf appeared from around the corner. "Did Vex tell you that she stole Delvin's key again?"

"Did she now?" Jordis beamed. "Either he's slowing down or we've got a master thief on our hands already!"

Brynjolf slipped an arm around her waist.

"Why not both?" he chuckled, ruffling Valkari's hair affectionately. "Wee lass has got plenty of potential, I don't think any of us could argue that, could we?"

"My name isn't Wee Lass," Valkari protested. "It's Valkari!"

The adults just laughed, smiling.

"That it is, wee lass," Brynjolf chuckled. "That it is."

[]

When Valkari first woke up, she was in a dreadful amount of pain. Her stomach felt like it was in pieces and her head might explode. Her hair was damp with sweat and she became aware that her eyes were burning with tears. Damn it, where was Brynjolf when she needed him most? She felt like maybe she was dying, and yet he was nowhere to be found.

Somewhere above her, someone removed something wet from her forehead and replaced it with another something, though this one was freezing cold and felt nice against her flushed skin.

"Try to relax," a woman's voice soothed. "You need to keep fighting, okay?"

There was a prickle of familiarity that made Valkari feel like she should ignore her, but she was in no condition to argue. She still wasn't even sure of what was going on. All she knew was one thing.

Mercer Frey had tried to kill her.

The tears were burning her eyes more than ever.

She wanted Brynjolf.

[]

For several days, Valkari hung in a feverish dream-like state as the woman tended her injuries and she battled against the fever. The dreams weren't much better and simply made her want to cry some more. The woman would sit by her head and brush her fingers through Valkari’s hair to sooth her and sang quietly as she re-bandaged her shoulder and stomach, and it helped a little.

Valkari wasn't sure how long it took, but it was about a week before she found herself back on her feet when the fever broke. She was sitting alone in a tent, with her armour set to one side with a heavy fur pelt draped over her. There was an awful scar on her stomach and there was no doubt that it would never fade. She was more hopeful about the scar on her shoulder, which was nowhere near as vivid. Still, she could hear movement outside and by now she could guess who her saviour was.

So Valkari dressed slowly, trying not to tear open her wounds as she did so, and grabbed her  bow and quiver before stepping out into the cold.

The sky was a clear, brilliant shade of blue and there wasn't a trace of a cloud in sight. And sitting at the fire pit, turning lumps of horse meat over the flames, was a woman who could only be Karliah.

It was the first time Valkari had seen her clearly. She had the typical dark skin of the dunmeri people, but rather than red, her eyes were a rich shade of violet and her brown hair was coarse and dry. She heard Valkari and looked up.

"Try not to move about so quickly," she warned quietly. "How do you feel?"

"Better than I did," Valkari said.

"Good."

For a long while, neither of them said anything and the pause was pregnant and awkward.

"You shot me," Valkari said suddenly, her hand rubbing her left shoulder.

Karliah didn't look up as she replied: "No, I saved your life. My arrow was tipped with a unique paralytic poison that slowed your heart rate and stopped you from bleeding out. Had I intended to kill you, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

She stoked the fire and inspected the meat. Seemingly satisfied, she held out the spit. Valkari didn't take it.

"You need to eat something," she insisted. "You've been fighting a fever for five days now. You need all the strength you can get."

Reluctantly, Valkari reached out and took the food before sitting across from Karliah. But she didn't eat. Instead she looked up at her.

"You should have used that arrow on Mercer," Valkari muttered. All she could think about was that sadistic smile on his face as he twisted the knife in her gut. She was rather glad for the poison actually – it hadn't hurt at all and she could only imagine how unbearable the whole ordeal would have been had it been painful.

"That was my original intention, but I never had a clear shot," Karliah said bitterly. "I made a split second decision to get you out of the way, and it prevented your death. A good thing, I suppose – it took me a year to perfect the poison on that arrow, and I only had enough for one shot. All I had hoped was to capture Mercer alive." She then looked at Valkari with a morbid curiosity. "Tell me... What's your name?"

"I think you already know who I am."

"I had hoped otherwise," Karliah spat, her face twisted with anger in a way not dissimilar to Vex. "To think he used you as a shield... and here I thought he could sink no lower."

"Why capture Mercer? Why not just kill him?" It's what she would do. And she was no huge fan of murder when she could help it.

"Mercer must be brought before the guild to answer for what he's done," she said snappishly. "He needs to pay for Gallus' murder."

So that much was true then. Mercer had murdered Gallus and framed Karliah for the whole thing. Somehow, learning that the woman Valkari had grown up to believe had murdered Gallus was innocent and that Mercer, the one who allowed the guild to continue sheltering her even after Jordis' death, was the real culprit somehow made matters worse.

"Without Mercer, how will you prove he killed Gallus?" she asked. No doubt Mercer was long gone. He'd probably gone back to the guild and claimed Karliah had killed her and he hadn't been able to stop her in spite of his efforts. The thought made her sick.

For the first time, Karliah let a grim smile appear on her lips. "My purpose in using Snow Veil Sanctum to ambush Mercer wasn't simply for irony's sake," she said, reaching into her pack and pulling out a leather-bound journal. "Before you arrived, I recovered a journal from Gallus' remains. I suspect that the information we need is written inside."

That was better than Valkari could have hoped.

"So what does it say?"

"I wish I knew," Karliah sighed. "The journal is written in some strange language I've never seen before."

"Could it be translated?" Valkari asked, not wanting things to be beyond hope already.

Karliah paused and looked thoughtful, tapping her chin before she thought of something, clicking her fingers. "Enthir… Gallus' friend at the College of Winterhold. Of course… He's the only other outsider that Gallus trusted with his Nightingale identity."

"There's that word again – Nightingale," Valkari realised. Karliah had said it before when confronting Mercer. Something about an oath. She remembered it as that old term of affection that Jordis, Gallus and Karliah had used for her when she was little. It didn't hold much significance before, but now...

"There were three of us; myself, Gallus and Mercer. We were an anonymous splinter of the Thieves Guild in Riften. Perhaps I'll tell you more about it later, right now you need to eat."

She gave Valkari a sharp glare and so she took a bite of the horse meat. It was actually surprisingly good, and given that she hadn't eaten for the better part of a week, she was hungry and wolfed it down in seconds.

"Good. Now we need to head to Winterhold to find Enthir and get the translation," Karliah continued, getting to her feet and adjusting her pack. "Unfortunately without my horse, it'll take us a while longer to get there."

Valkari swallowed, feeling a little guilty. Mercer had killed the horse to prevent Karliah's escape – at the time, it had seemed like a good thing. If only she'd known better.

Regardless, Valkari grabbed her own pack and they set off north for Winterhold.


	7. Secrets of Stone

“So has Brynjolf finally admitted to having a daughter?”

Valkari glanced over at Karliah as they walked. The snow was knee-deep and trudging through it was hard work.

“You kept asking for him,” she explained, shrugging.

“No, and at this point denying it seems ridiculous,” Valkari replied. “He's the one who picked up my training after mum died though."

Her tone made it clear there was no room for further discussion on that topic, as Karliah didn’t pry any further and said nothing until the College came into view. Valkari was relieved really. She didn’t like talking about that time. The vague memory of her mother wasting away from sickness was a difficult one. She'd been a vibrant woman in life. It didn't seem fair that she'd become a husk in death.

“We’re almost there,” said Karliah, shielding her eyes from the sun. It was good to see the city, Valkari’s abdomen was starting to hurt again. The thought of a break was a nice one, she wouldn’t deny. And perhaps Karliah realised because she gave her a small smile and said: “I sent word ahead, Enthir is waiting for us in the Frozen Hearth. We can take a rest in there.”

It was a relief, as the stabbing pains became more noticeable the further they walked.

The Frozen Hearth was near empty, though it was hardly a surprise given how little thoroughfare Winterhold received. Enthir was waiting for them in a small room off of the main room of the inn – he was a bosmer dressed in mages robes and he had a pointed face.

Valkari shut the door as she and Karliah stepped in, and Enthir got to his feet.

“Karliah,” he greeted warmly, embracing her tightly.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” said Karliah, as she hugged him back.

He released her and nodded before his eyes roamed over to Valkari. “So, this is the one Mercer tried to kill? I thought you’d be taller.”

“Rich to hear that from a bosmer,” she muttered as she eased herself into a seat, and Karliah passed her a healing potion, which she accepted gratefully. Enthir cocked an eyebrow, but shrugged and sat down again.

“I take it you found it then?” he asked, looking over at Karliah.

She nodded, producing the journal from her pack. Enthir took it in his hands and a strangely nostalgic look appeared on his face as he looked down at the cover. He opened the journal near reverently and flicked through the pages, a wry smile curling into his lips.

“This is just like Gallus,” he murmured. “Always too clever for his own good. He’s written all of the text in the falmer language.”

“Falmer? Like the snow elves?” Valkari asked, looking over to Karliah who nodded.

“Yes, though I imagine this is following their betrayal by the dwemer,” she replied before turning back to Enthir. “Can you translate it?”

To their disappointment, Enthir shook his head. “No, though I do know someone who might be capable. The court wizard of Markarth, Calcelmo, should have the materials you need to get this journal translated. A word of warning: Calcelmo is fierce guardian of his research. Getting the information won’t be easy, even Gallus struggled to get his hands on it.”

“That’s what Mercer said about Gulum-Ei,” Valkari noted. A pleasant, warm feeling settled in her gut as her insides healed over and the pain receded. Hopefully it would stay that way from now on. She got to her feet, pulling up her hood. “I’ll head for Markarth then. The sooner we can stick it to Mercer, the better.”

Karliah followed suit. “There are other things that need doing in the meantime – when you have what we need, I’ll meet you back here. Let’s hope that this is enough.”

[]

As Enthir had said, Calcelmo was stubborn and no matter how hard Valkari tried, he refused to give up the key. She knew she had never been brilliant with words, but she was usually able to get what she wanted. Bloody stubborn altmer. Fortunately for her, she spied exactly what she was looking for on a nearby table and when no one was looking she snatched it and quickly excused herself before Calcelmo could be any wiser to what she had done.

Navigating his dwemer museum was a whole other matter however. It was crawling with guards and places to hide were painfully limited. Occasionally Valkari was left with no option but to use the traps throughout the complex. Valves and pipes lined the walls and with the right manipulation, could be made to spit fire, steam and even arrows. It felt wrong to be killing them, but this wasn’t a guild job and so the usual rules didn’t really apply.

Valkari crept along a narrow corridor. High bronze bars separated it from the neighbouring chamber, where a haggle of guards and a wizard were working. Damn it, there was no way she was sneaking past them. That was when she spied the valve at the end of the corridor. There was no saying what it would do – kill all of them probably, but hopefully it would cause enough chaos for her to get past unnoticed. So she seized the valve and turned it with only a little difficulty.

It was chaos, but not what Valkari had expected. Streams of fire erupted from the pipes and a set of giant blades emerged from the floor, promptly slicing three of the guards cleanly in two. Valkari stared in horror as the wizard caught fire and fled with his robes ablaze. He sprinted up the stairs, throwing open the gates leading into the corridor, shrieking in pain. An arrow in the back of his head ended his suffering quickly, but Valkari’s hands were shaking slightly from the brutal trap. That was just plain unnecessary.

After a few moments, the fire died and the blades came to a halt, folded up neatly before sinking back into the floor.

“The dwemer spared no expense in trying to keep their secrets,” she muttered to herself, slinging her bow back over her back as she proceeded down through the chamber and on through the vast complex of the museum.

Just as Valkari was getting sick of dusty tunnels and dwemer motifs, she found herself out on a balcony overlooking Markarth. And to her right was a stone staircase leading exactly where she needed to go.

Once safely inside the tower Valkari looked around. The main chamber was mostly empty, with a flight of stairs leading into Calcelmo’s personal study overhead. And from here, she could see a large stone tablet on the edge of the platform above her. The study was brimming with all sorts of dwemer artefacts, from an old lever to a gigantic (thankfully inactive) centurion. Valkari searched the notes and journals that covered the desk, yet found nothing that even remotely resembling notes on how to translate the falmer language.

Somewhere in this tower, Gallus had managed to find a way to translate that text, and now Valkari had to do the same. But still there was nothing. Frustrated and all too aware that the alarm would have been raised by now, she turned her eyes to a bookshelf near the doors leading out onto the platform.

“ _Ancient Tales of the Dwemer, Part VI: Chimarvamidium, Twin Secrets, Dwemer Inquiries Volume I, Herbane’s Bestiary: Automatons…_ ” she murmured, browsing the titles quickly though none of them were what she was hoping to find. “Damn it…”

She was running out of time, and nothing in here vaguely resembled the notes she was looking for. Then her eyes drifted out to the platform, over to the stone tablet. It was worth a look.

The surface of the tablet was covered in the same strange runes from Gallus’ journal, and each rune was matched up with a character of the common tongue. As Valkari continued her inspection, she could see that Calcelmo had left further notes on sentence construction, semantical meaning, how the words worked… This was what she was looking to find.

There had been large rolls of paper and charcoal sticks all over the desk back in the study. Valkari grabbed them and got to work, holding the paper over the runes and rubbing the charcoal over its surface. Once she was done, she carefully rolled up the rubbing and tucked it safely back into her pack. And not a moment too soon. She heard the door into the tower open and Valkari knew her time was up.

“Spread out and search the tower,” ordered a man in elaborate imperial armour. “No telling who – or what – we’re dealing with here.”

It was almost humorous to think that a scrawny fifteen year old who had recently recovered from being stabbed in the stomach could inspire such caution, but it was a laugh Valkari could have once she was safely out of here. She had to explore her options quickly. After all, thieves and swords never mixed well. There was a nearby walkway that dropped off not far from the door. Whilst the guards were searching the rest of the tower, Valkari could slip away unseen.

She shook her head as she slipped through the door unnoticed and unseen.

“Calcelmo needs better guards,” she muttered to herself, slipping down the stairs, turning the corner before quickly drawing back into the shadows.

There were more guards were waiting outside the doors leading back into the tower. It seemed the guard captain wasn't a complete idiot then, but even so, they didn’t get a chance to react as Valkari vaulted the stone wall and leapt to a shelf of rock below. The crashing of the waterfall beside her drowned out the shouting overhead – hopefully the guards in the streets didn’t notice the commotion, or getting out of the city was going to be harder than she would like.

Reaching for her belt, Valkari pulled out her grappling hook and secured it to the cliff face, looping the rope through her belt. Once it was secured, she pushed away from the cliff, and lowered herself back down to the narrow side-street below.

[]

Karliah and Enthir were waiting for Valkari in the basement of the Frozen Hearth, both of them on edge.

“Back already, eh?” asked Enthir as she shut the door behind her. “And how was our friend Calcelmo?”

Valkari pulled the rubbing out from her pack and held it out. “As pig-headed as you said. But when did I ever let a stubborn elf stop me?”

Enthir took the paper and unrolled it, raising his eyebrows. “A rubbing? I was expecting notes.”

“It’s quite the tale.”

“I understand,” he chuckled before turning to a table set up at the far end of the room. “Let me take a good look at this. Over here please.”

Enthir spent a few minutes pouring over the notes, looking back to the journal and scribbling the translation onto a fresh sheet of parchment. Slowly, the text began to emerge and his brow furrowed, a frown pulling at his lips.

“This is intriguing, but highly disturbing,” he muttered, looking between the notes, the journal and his translation. “It appears that Gallus had suspicions about Mercer Frey’s allegiance to the guild for months. Gallus uncovered what he calls… ‘an unduly lavish lifestyle, replete with spending vast amounts of gold on personal pleasures.’”

Valkari frowned, cocking her head to one side. “But that’s what thieves do right? Make a fortune and live like kings?” Brynjolf had told her all about one thief who did just that back in the early years of the Fourth Era, supposedly an ancestor of her's according to the records. She wasn't entirely certain she believed him though.

Karliah, however, seemed more suspicious. “Does the journal say where this wealth came from?”

Enthir peered at his translation again. “Yes, Gallus seems certain that Mercer had been removing funds from the guild’s treasury without anyone’s knowledge.”

“Anything else, Enthir? Anything about… the Nightingales?” asked Karliah, and Valkari swore she saw her eyes flicker her way when she said that.

It took him only a few moments to find the page and scribble up the translation.

“Yes, here it is. The last few pages seem to describe the ‘failure of the Nightingales’ though it doesn’t go into great detail. Gallus also repeatedly mentions his strong belief that Mercer desecrated something known as the Twilight Sepulcher.”

“Shadows preserve us… It’s true.”

Valkari looked up at Karliah, who had paled dramatically and her expression was some cross between horror and fury. But it seemed Valkari wasn’t the only one completely in the dark on the matter, as Enthir looked as confused as she felt.

“I’m not familiar with the Twilight Sepulcher. What is it? What’s Mercer Frey done?”

Karliah shook her head ruefully. “I’m sorry Enthir, I can’t say. All that matters is that we deliver your translation to the guild immediately. Farwell Enthir… Words can’t express…” She sounded like she might cry. Then again, after coming so close to ending over ten years on the run, Valkari could hardly blame her.

“It’s alright Karliah. You don’t have to say a word.” He held out the journal and his translation, and she stowed both away into her pack. Enthir then turned his attention to Valkari. “It comes to my attention that I don’t even know your name.”

“Valkari. But most people call me Val,” she said, shrugging. “So what’s your stake in all of this? You’re obviously not with the guild.” She gestured to his robes, the sort that only students in the College ever wore.

“Listen, all I want is the truth to be revealed to the guild,” he snapped. “They respected Karliah, and she deserves better. Do whatever you can, and I’d consider it a personal favour.”

“Thanks Enthir.”

“Not a problem. If you ever find yourself needing to get rid of some questionable items and you’re in Winterhold, meet me at the College. I can take them off of your hands, for a fair price.”

That sounded like a good reward for all of her trouble. Having new fences was always a good deal in the long run, especially in the more remote locations of Skyrim.

With a final nod to Valkari and Karliah, Enthir departed and Valkari noticed that the translation notes had vanished with him. Sly bastard.

She turned back to Karliah, who seemed to have recomposed herself and was looking very serious.

“We must hasten to Riften before Mercer can do anymore damage to the guild.”

“What _is_ the Twilight Sepulcher that Gallus mentioned?” Valkari asked curiously.

She hesitated for a brief moment before folding her arms across her chest. “You’ve come this far, so I see no harm in concealing it any longer. The Twilight Sepulcher is the temple to Nocturnal. It’s what the Nightingales are sworn to protect with their very lives.”

“Why would it need that sort of protection?” She’d heard of thieves risking their lives to obtain treasure, but never to protect something that wasn’t theirs.

“Everything that represents Nocturnal’s influence is contained within the walls of the Sepulcher. Now it seems that Mercer has broken his oath with Nocturnal and has defiled the very thing he swore to protect.”

“Thieves, temples… This doesn’t add up.”

Karliah gave her a very slight smile. “I felt the same way when Gallus first revealed these things to me. Given time, you’ll understand what I mean.”

“I’d understand better without all the secrecy,” Valkari pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

But Karliah merely shook her head. “As a Nightingale, I’m sworn to secrecy regarding the Sepulcher. I know that the guild doesn’t do much to foster faith, but I’m going to have to ask that you continue to trust me.”

If she hadn’t been the one to save her from Mercer, Valkari would have refused. After what happened in Snow Veil Sanctum, trust felt like a very foreign and alien thing. But right now, they had a common goal and that was to make Mercer regret ever wronging them, so really what did she have to lose?

Valkari nodded and Karliah seemed to relax.

“I think it’s best if we travel to Riften separately. With luck, the guild will believe you’re dead and they won’t have a clue we’ve been working together,” she went on. “It gives us something to work with. They trust you after all.”

“And what about you?”

“I’ll head there ahead of you to scout out the situation. Meet me in the Ragged Flagon when you’re ready. It’s been ten years, they won’t expect me to just walk in. I’ll have some time before they get suspicious. And in the meantime, I want you to have something.”

She reached into a nearby barrel and pulled out a sword unlike any Valkari had ever seen. Except she had seen it somewhere, she was sure.

It looked like it had been forged from pure midnight, and even in the torchlight it didn’t gleam or shine. It was short and wickedly sharp, and the guard was in the shape of a black bird cradling an orb of some sort.

Valkari took it in her hand, marvelling at it. It was lighter than any sword she’d ever held, yet looked no less deadly. She turned to Karliah, meaning to say ‘thank you’, but instead she said: “I can’t use a sword.”

The corners of Karliah’s lips twitched upwards slightly. “I wouldn’t worry too much. Gallus was hardly a master swordsman either, but the enchantments on the blade helped him greatly.”

“Gallus?” Valkari gazed back at the blade. “This was Gallus’?”

“Yes, and I think it’s safe to say he would have approved.” Karliah held out the sheath and Valkari took it, strapping it to her hip. “Good. I’ll head out now. Prepare yourself, and let us pray that the guild will listen to reason.”


	8. The Shadows Part

Valkari didn't enjoy the return journey to Riften. Her stomach, now fully healed, was all in knots – what had Mercer told them? Did they know that she and Karliah had been working together? And would they believe them, even with Gallus' journal? Too many unknowns, too many possibilities. Valkari hated it. She liked it when a job was nice and straight forward for a reason. Less complications. But for now she'd just have to see what happened.

The carriage ride felt too long, especially considering she’d had gotten on in Windhelm which should have only been a few hours at the most. So it was something of a horrible relief when the walls of the city loomed up in the distance. It suddenly didn't feel like she was coming home so much as she was walking into what could end up being a death trap. But she had elected to trust Karliah and so far she'd given her more reason to do so in the space of a week than Mercer had in the last fifteen years. Even so, she couldn't help having some misgivings over what could happen.

Valkari kept her hood up and her cloak wrapped tightly around herself, hoping to go unrecognised. The last thing she needed was for Mercer to catch wind of her return and use it to his advantage. She couldn't bear the idea of the guild – of Brynjolf – believing that back-stabbing skeever over her.

The canal had the same old stagnate stench, and the low lives paid Valkari little heed when she flashed a weapon at them. Too soon, she was standing in the entrance to the Ragged Flagon, feeling as though her heart might just burst out of her chest with anticipation. She hated feeling this way in a place she had called home for so many years.

Karliah was waiting nearby, just out of sight with her hood up and she whispered when she spoke.

"Good, you're here. I think some of these people are starting to suspect who I am."

True enough, Valkari saw Vekel casting wary glances in their direction. She hoped he hadn’t recognised her just yet.

"Are you ready?" Karliah asked.

"What if Mercer's there?" Valkari hadn't meant to say that, but the sudden thought of being confronted by that man again scared the shit out of her. All she could think about was that sneer on his face as he twisted his dagger deeper into her gut.

Karliah patted Valkari’s lower arm, out of Vekel's sight. "Then we show them Gallus' journal and hope for the best. Don't worry. We have proof, and all Mercer has is his word. And if what I've heard around the city is right, Brynjolf loves you too much not to hear you out."

That was reassuring, though Valkari wondered what she had heard exactly. Still, there was no sense in delaying any longer, even though it was all too appealing just to drown herself in the Cistern first. The pair drew level with the bar when there was a loud bang, as Vekel dropped the mug he was cleaning.

"Val?!" He exclaimed.

Tonilia and Dirge, the only other patrons in the bar at the moment, jumped and looked over as Vekel stormed out from behind the bar and pulled Valkari into a bone-breaking hug. When he released her, he held her firmly at arm's length.

"Where the hell have you been?! We all thought you were dead!"

"And what are you doing with her?" Tonilia growled, holding a dagger in her hand and glaring at Karliah. Dirge was cracking his fists and working his jaw threateningly.

"Wait, you don't understand-!" Valkari began, but it was Vekel who held out a hand.

"There'll be no brawling in my bar," he barked. "Toni, you know Val better."

Tonilia grudgingly re-sheathed her weapon as Vekel turned back to Valkari.

"We knew Karliah was back already. But no one knew you were alive – Brynjolf even went out to find you when Mercer came back alone." He gave her a sharp look. "He didn't want to believe you were dead. But I'm going to give it to you straight, the guild are all in the Cistern and they're ready to cut Karliah down. I know you have to have a good reason for siding with her, and you have to give it to them, okay?"

Valkari swallowed hard, but nodded anyway as her legs felt very much like lead. But at least they weren't trying to kill Karliah at any rate.

"Is Mercer here right now?" Valkari asked, glancing nervously to Tonilia who shook her head.

"No. He came back, told us that Karliah had killed you before leaving again. A very important job, he said. He's not come back since."

Well that was something. Valkari looked back to Karliah, who nodded.

"Let's get this over with."

[]

In all her life, Valkari was certain she'd never felt quite like this. There was a difference between causing mischief by hiding the belongings of the other thieves and siding with a sworn enemy of the guild. And she was up against an entire guild that could easily have her hung, drawn and quartered if they refused to listen. Still, Mercer thought she was dead and the guild believed that too. It was something to work with.

"Are you ready?" Karliah asked again.

Valkari couldn't answer; her mouth was too dry so she just jerked her head instead. Karliah gave her hand a quick squeeze before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Valkari followed behind, praying to all the Nine Divines that this wouldn't end in bloodshed.

"You have a lot of nerve to come back here, you murderer," spat Brynjolf, pointing his blade right at Karliah. Delvin and Vex stood either side of him, both standing at the ready. Across the room Valkari could see everyone else standing ready around the edge of the room, like silent stone sentinels, ready to attack at a moment's notice.

"Wait a minute," Valkari said, stepping out from behind Karliah. "You need to listen to us."

Again, it was almost like returning from Goldenglow when everyone was staring like she had come back from the dead. And this time, she supposed she really had in their eyes. No thanks to Mercer.

There was a clatter of steel on stone as Brynjolf's abandoned blades hit the floor as he pulled her tightly into his arms. He wasn't crying, but his shoulders were shaking as he buried his nose into her hair. Valkari hugged back tightly, her eyes burning with tears, not wanting to let go this time. She felt like she was being reduced back to the seven year old, waking up from horrible nightmares and going to Brynjolf. His hugs were always the best.

He finally pulled away, peering at her face as though making sure it really was her and not just a ghost.

"But how?" he whispered.

"That's a good point," Vex interjected venomously, her eyes on Karliah and her weapons ready. If looks could kill… "Mercer said that she killed you. So why are you with her?"

"Because Mercer was the bastard who tried to kill me!"

A profound silence fell across the room as the words bounced off of the walls and everyone realised what Valkari had just said.

"What the hell are you talking about, Val?" uttered Delvin, looking at her as though she’d grown an extra head. Even Brynjolf seemed dumbstruck by the accusation.

"You heard me," Valkari spat. "Mercer had every intention of getting rid of me in that ruin, he used me as a shield. Karliah used a paralytic arrow to get me out of the way when she couldn't get a clear shot on Mercer. Once she was gone, Mercer decided I was inconvenient and-!" She had to stop herself, feeling her eyes burning again and her bottom lip was trembling as that awful memory came back. Even Vex's glare eased off somewhat, though she still threw Karliah a very nasty look.

Valkari drew a deep breath before continuing: "When Karliah was gone, Mercer turned on me. He stabbed me and left me to die when I had no chance to protect myself. If not for Karliah's arrow, I would have bled to death. She saved me."

But Brynjolf shook his head in disbelief. "No, that can't be right. I've known Mercer too long. Val, he might be a bit of a bastard sometimes, but he wouldn't do something like that, I know he wouldn't."

Valkari silently unfastened her cuirass and lifted up her undershirt, exposing the hideous white scar underneath. Brynjolf's eyes went wide, and Delvin recoiled slightly whilst Vex's snarl grew ever more fearsome.

"And if that's not enough for you, we recovered Gallus' journal. Enthir translated it for us," said Karliah, stepping forwards and holding out the journal and Enthir's translation. "And I think you'll find its contents quite disturbing."

Brynjolf took it, casting a suspicious eye at Karliah before turning his eyes to what Enthir had written. His brow furrowed.

"This… No, it can't be true."

"It's true Brynjolf, every word of it. Mercer's been stealing from the guild for years, right under all of your noses," Karliah hissed.

"There's only one way to know for sure. We need to open the vault." He turned on his heel, stopping only to grab his weapons off of the floor as he crossed the room. Delvin and Vex sheathed their own weapons and followed, clearly confused.

"What's she talking about Bryn? What was in that book?" asked Delvin, jogging to keep up with him.

"It says that Mercer has been stealing from the guild's vault for years," Brynjolf replied worriedly. "Gallus was looking into it before he was murdered."

"How could Mercer open a vault that needs two keys? It's impossible," snorted Delvin, throwing a suspicious glance over at Karliah.

"Could he have picked it?" Valkari asked, looking up at Vex.

"That door's got the best puzzle locks that money can buy," she said, her eyes still dangerously narrowed. "No way it can be picked open."

"He didn't need to pick the lock," Karliah said vaguely as she trailed at the back of the group.

"What's she on about?" Delvin said, completely bemused.

Valkari looked up at the vault door. It looked as solid and impenetrable as ever. Even after everything she had learned, she found it hard to believe Mercer could have been stealing from it without anyone knowing.

"Use your key on the vault Delvin. We'll open it up and find out the truth."

Delvin glanced over at Valkari and she nodded. He pulled out his key from his cuirass, a tiny silver thing it was, and proceeded to place it into one of the locks. He turned it and there was a loud clack, but the doors didn't budge.

"I used my key, but the vault is still locked up tighter than a drum. Now use yours."

He stepped out of the way as Brynjolf took out his own key. There was a second clack and the doors swung open. A moment of stunned silence passed before he said anything.

"It's gone! Everything's gone! Get in here, all of you!" He barked, stepping into the vault.

Delvin followed. "The gold, the jewels. It's all gone," he said in a bewildered voice.

Valkari had never been in the vault before, and after all she had heard it was extremely lacklustre and only Mercer could be to blame. It was a reasonable large circular room, with numerous chests and tables… All of which were empty, unless cobwebs counted. There wasn't even the glitter of a single gold septim, let along an entire fortune.

Vex took one look and ripped her dagger from her belt again.

"That son of a bitch, I'll kill him!" She roared, turning to storm out of the room until Brynjolf blocked the door.

"Vex, put it away. Right now," he commanded firmly. Valkari had never known anyone who dared to hold Vex's gaze when she was pissed off, and she'd yet to see her this angry until now. There was a tense few seconds as they stared each other down.

"Does what he says Vex," muttered Delvin, wisely remaining out of her immediate reach. "This ain't helping right now."

Finally, she conceded and put the dagger away. "Fine, we'll do it your way. For now."

Brynjolf nodded, looking unusually grave. "Delvin, Vex, watch the Flagon. If you see Mercer, come tell me right away."

They both nodded, though Valkari had a feeling Vex was more likely to kill him first if he did come back. Brynjolf then turned to Valkari. "We need to talk. Karliah, if you'll excuse us?"

Karliah nodded, looking incredibly relieved that things had gone so well. As bad as things looked right now, Valkari knew for a fact that they could be a hundred times worse. She followed Brynjolf back to Mercer's desk and he heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Look, before I help you track down Mercer, I need you to tell me everything that Karliah told you. And I mean everything, wee lass."

So she began the long story, starting from the moment Karliah shot her. How Mercer had turned on her and tried to kill her, that Karliah had been the one to save her and of her excursion in Markarth to try and recover the means to translate Gallus' journal, and what they had learned from the journal. At the mention of the Nightingales, Brynjolf blinked in surprise.

"Nightingales? But, I always assumed they were just a tale… a way to keep the young footpads in line," he murmured. "Was there anything else?"

"No, that was it."

"Then I have an important task for you." He didn't look all too happy about it either. He sighed again and didn't quite meet her eyes. "I need you to break into Mercer's home, and search for anything that could tell us where he's gone."

"You mean Riftweald Manor?" Valkari asked. It had belonged to another family once, before Maven kicked them out and gifted it to Mercer. He never stayed there, but at a guess, it seemed likely that it was where he stored his stolen treasures.

He nodded. "It's guarded by some lout named Vald. You'll need to get past him to get inside."

"I'll take care of it."

"Be careful lass," he said suddenly, his voice soft and on the verge of breaking. "This is the last place in Skyrim that I'd ever want to send you. Just find a way in, get the information, and leave. And I'm giving you permission to kill anyone that stands in your way."

"Right. I'll be back soon."

He hugged her tightly, ruffling her hair before letting her go, his face becoming set. It was time to get to work.

[]

It was late afternoon as Valkari skirted along the fringes of the city, skulking through back alleys as she made her way towards Riftweald Manor. If she could get the key from Vald without killing him, she would be perfectly content. It would just be a matter of persuading him. And that meant getting him to betray Mercer. This ought to be a challenge.

Vald was a hulking nord man, with a mean looking face, gorilla arms and fewer brains than a mud crab. The moment he spotted Valkari loitering at the back gate to Riftweald, he stomped over, jutting his jaw aggressively. He reminded her of a troll, only with less fur and poorer hygiene.

"This is Mercer Frey's private property," he growled. "Get lost, whelp!"

"I'm from the guild, Mercer sent me," she said smoothly. "He needs you in Markarth immediately – something about needing a few orcs needing some roughing up."

He screwed up his face in concentration – was thinking truly so painful for him?

"But…" he began slowly. "I'm supposed to watch the house…"

"I could watch it for you until you get back," Valkari offered. "Unless you want to risk pissing off Mercer."

It seemed to be one too many thoughts for his walnut brain, so he jerked his head and unlocked the gate.

"No one comes in without Mercer's say so," he grunted, thrusting the key into her hand. "Kill 'em if you have to. Now I gotta go."

Once he was out of earshot, Valkari laughed. That had been far too easy. How had no one gotten past the stupid oaf already? She suppose it helped that she was from the guild, but honestly, she'd met children that were harder to steal from. Still, it was a way in.

Unfortunately the back door was barred from the other side, and thus wasn't a viable way in. But that only crossed out one possibility.

Brynjolf had reliable informed her of a contraption that Mercer had commissioned for easy escapes, should the need arise. A ramp leading to the second floor that could be easily activated with a well-placed shot. And Valkari was rather good at those. She drew back her bow, aiming carefully for the switch and loosed the arrow.

The ramp swung down, granting her easy access to the upper floor of the house. Perfect.

Valkari found herself in a small storage room that was clogged with dust and spider webs. Her nose was itching like hell, but she resisted the urge to sneeze at all costs. She could hear talking up ahead. There were more guards inside – no wonder Brynjolf had warned her to be cautious. It complicated matters, seeing as it meant she didn't have free reign to search the house from top to bottom. Unless of course they were removed.

Killing the old coot down in the tunnels had been one thing. He was mad, and most likely dangerous, and no one even knew he was gone. Picking off these mercs without a good enough reason didn't seem worth it, even with Brynjolf's permission. But they had to find Mercer before he could get away.

Even so, Valkari found herself creeping past them and slipping down stairs without any of them noticing a thing. And it was lucky that she found that the first floor was completely unguarded. All of the doors were barred shut, and the windows locked – of course they didn't think anyone could get into the house down here, and so guarding it seemed pointless. A mistake all too easily made, and it was one that made her job much easier.

Valkari explored the rooms, all while keeping an ear out for any sign of trouble. But no one came and as far as she could tell, no one had even realised that someone had infiltrated the house at all. She had time, so she covered as much ground as she could. It wasn't until she came to the dining room did she notice anything out of place.

Standing against the far wall was a wardrobe. There was nothing peculiar about it at a first glance, but as she drew closer, Valkari realised something odd. It was nailed to the wall. With a little more investigation, a false panel in the back slide open, revealing a narrow, dark passageway beyond. Bingo.

[]

The deeper Valkari went into the house, the more she hated Mercer. The guards had been simple to get past, but the myriad of traps had been a whole other matter and she emerged from the gauntlet posing as a corridor with a few deep scratches in her arms where a swinging axe or two had nicked her. It could have been far worse, but the cuts stung badly and she had no real way of dealing with them right now. She'd have to see to herself later when she had what she was looking for.

But it was worth it in the end, as she now stood in what had to be one of many of Mercer's stashes. There was no way that this was everything Mercer had taken, but it was more than what the guild had seen in recent years. A beautiful glass sword sat inside its case, tendrils of ice wrapping up its blade; a few chests stuffed with jewels and coin, and a bookshelf brimming with rare tomes that would be worth a fortune to any collector. But it was the table in the middle of the room that held what she really needed.

Spread out across it was a large sheet of parchment, detailed with notes and maps of some ruin called Irkngthand, a dwemer ruin in the north. It looked like a plan of some sort. And it was surely where Mercer was headed.

The name did ring a bell, though she wasn't too sure why. Regardless, if that was where Mercer was headed, Valkari was determined to follow.


	9. Trinity Restored

Valkari returned to the guild to find everyone on the lookout for Mercer, weapons ready and teeth bared. It was impossible not to sense the tension and anger in the air, and every bit of it was aimed at Mercer. By this point though, she knew their efforts to guard the guild were pointless. With the vault emptied and with the plans he had left, it was becoming painfully evident that Mercer had no intentions of returning. By now, he'd probably even learnt that Valkari was alive. An oversight on his part.

Brynjolf was waiting at the desk. He was certainly much more level headed than anyone else in the room right now, though she suspected that was partially an act. Brynjolf was very good at acting.

"There's been no sign of Mercer since you left, wee lass," he said calmly, though she didn't miss the flicker of relief on his face. "Any luck on your end?"

"I found these plans in the basement," she said, handing them over. "He's also got a nice little stash down there. Might be good groundwork for getting the vault filled again."

Brynjolf took the plans, took one look and balked. "Shor's beard. He's going after the Eyes of the Falmer? That was Gallus' pet project. If he gets his hands on them, you can be certain he'll be gone for good. And set up for life."

"Then we make sure he doesn't get his hands on them."

Brynjolf nodded. "Agreed. He's taken everything the guild has left, and to go after one of the last greatest heights it just an insult. I've spoken with Karliah, and started to make amends for how the guild's treated her."

"It's a start at least," Valkari remarked, shrugging.

"She wishes to speak with both of us. Quickly, we have no time to lose."

Karliah was waiting on the platform in the centre of the Cistern. She looked torn between relief and anxiousness, her hands rested on her hips and she kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"Brynjolf, the time has come to decide Mercer's fate," she declared. "Until a new guildmaster is chosen, the decision falls to you."

"Aye lass, and I've come to a decision; Mercer Frey tried to kill both of you. He betrayed the guild, murdered Gallus and made us question our future. He needs to die."

Valkari had a feeling it would come to this. The guild didn't tolerate betrayal and an eye for an eye was the usual measure of punishment. For Mercer's crimes, death was the only option it seemed.

Karliah, however, seemed more reluctant. "We must be very careful Brynjolf. Mercer is a Nightingale, an agent of Nocturnal."

"Then it's all true, everything I heard in the stories. The Nightingales, their allegiance to Nocturnal, and the Twilight Sepulcher."

"Yes, which is why we need to prepare ourselves and meet Mercer on equal footing." She paused, glancing around before leaning in closer. "Just outside Riften, beyond the south-east gate, there is a small path cut up the mountainside. At the end of that path is a clearing, and an old standing stone. I'd ask you both to meet me there."

"Why?" Valkari asked.

She merely shook her head. "You'll see when we get there. But for now, you'll have to trust me."

[]

Valkari arrived at the standing stone at dusk, ahead of Karliah and Brynjolf. Both of them had left to make preparations before departing for Irkngthand, and Valkari had stopped in the Flagon to speak with Tonilia, and to procure more arrows and new tools before heading out to the standing stone that Karliah had described.

The stone itself was a tall, black column with a black bird cradling an orb carved into its surface. It was the same design as the guard on the sword Karliah had given her. A Nightingale.

Whilst she waited for Brynjolf and Karliah to arrive, Valkari pulled out the Nightingale blade and gave it a few swings. The movements were random at best, but not nearly as clumsy as she usually was. The blade was just the right weight and length for her, unlike any stock blade the guild had tried to get her to work with. Still, if she was going to kill Mercer, her best bet would be to shoot him before he could even get close. Not a simple task, considering how fast he moved.

Now that she thought about it, everything Mercer had done in Snow Veil Sanctum had seemed far too remarkable. The door into the ruin, and the Nordic puzzle door. He had to have used the same method to open those that he used to break into the vault without anyone knowing. She didn't know how he had done it, but she got the feeling that she'd be finding out sooner or later.

Sure enough, Brynjolf soon arrived, and only minutes later Karliah followed.

"I'm glad you're here," she murmured, turning to look at the stone and bowing her head briefly.

"What's so special about this place?" Valkari asked, following her gaze up to the stone.

"This is the headquarters of the Nightingales. Cut into the mountainside by the first of our kind. We've come to seek the edge we need to defeat Mercer Frey," she explained, looking up again.

"We? So you take issue with me running off to try and kill Karliah, but when it's Mercer you've got no problem?" Valkari shot over at Brynjolf.

He gave me a rather grim smile. "Wee lass, do either of us really believe I could stop you from going anyway?"

"You could try," she said, shrugging. He just laughed and shook his head. So she turned back to Karliah. "What kind of an edge are you talking about?"

"If you follow me, I'll explain on the way."

She turned away, and walked up towards the rock face of the mountain. She brushed a hand against it, murmuring words in a language Valkari couldn't understand. The stone began to vibrate and rumble, and slid to one side, revealing a doorway standing behind it.

Beyond the door was a narrow tunnel that sloped downwards into the earth. The moment Karliah shut the door behind them, torches burst into life. Karliah led the way, the ground crunching beneath our boots as they walked.

"So this is Nightingale Hall?" mused Brynjolf. "I'd heard about this place when I joined the guild, but I never believed it existed."

"The assumption that the Nightingales were a myth was seeded into the guild on purpose. It helped avert attention from our true nature. What's wrong Brynjolf? I can almost hear your brow furrowing."

"I'm trying to understand why I'm here lass. I'm no priest, and I'm certainly not religious. Why pick me?"

"This isn't about religion Brynjolf. It's business."

The last dying rays of sunlight filtered in through cracks in the ceiling, casting pale shafts of gold and orange in the violet light. Tattered banners bearing the black bird hung from the walls, fluttering gently in the breeze flowing through the tunnel.

Finally, they came to a stone archway that led into a large cavern that had been seemingly unoccupied for years. There was a running stream of water through the room, fed by a waterfall, with an old wooden bridge built over it. On the far side, it seemed there was some sort of living area with a long cold cooking fire, several broken chairs, a dusty alchemy station and several empty bookcases. There were more archways on their side of the room, but whatever was beyond them was blocked off by a large rock fall. As they stepped into the room, flames sprung from the braziers. Valkari noticed, however, that the ones before the collapsed archway remained completely dark.

"Welcome to Nightingale Hall," said Karliah. "You are the first of the uninitiated to set foot inside in over a century."

Though it was far from luxurious, Valkari found herself enchanted by the hall. Her mother and Brynjolf had told her the stories of the Nightingales when she was younger, and she'd spent some of her earlier years absolutely convinced they were true. Everyone would laugh, ruffle her hair and humour her, but it seemed the joke was on them now. Valkari made her way down the steps, running her fingers across the stone work. They returned black and covered in a thick layer of dust.

"Now, if you'll both proceed to the armoury to don you Nightingale armour, we can begin the oath."

They crossed the bridge, which didn't seem inclined to give out beneath them, and entered another room. Standing at the far end were three stones, each engraved with the Nightingale symbol. Valkari approached the centre stone cautiously and laid a hand to the surface.

Immediately she felt the shadows wash over her and for a moment, she couldn't unglue her hand from the stone. She felt her armour fall away and something new took its place. When her hand came free of the stone, she was clad in what could only be described as forged midnight. It looked like leather, but it didn't move nor feel like it. It was weightless, and black as night. The boots were soft and flexible, not making even the slightest sound no matter how she tried as she scuffed her feet across the floor. A mask covered her lower face, and a warm cloak draped her shoulders. She'd never seen or worn anything like it.

Soon Brynjolf and Karliah donned their own armour and Karliah led the way down yet another corridor. Other passages led off to the sides, but Karliah kept going until they were stood in a large antechamber, decorated with more banners and braziers. Valkari could see a gate beyond, and what appeared to be the final chamber in the hall.

"Okay lass, we've got these getups on. Now what?"

"Beyond this gate is the first step in becoming a Nightingale."

"Whoa there lass, I appreciate the armour. But becoming a Nightingale? That was never discussed," said Brynjolf, as he took a step back and crossed his arms.

"To hold any hope of defeating Mercer, we must have Nocturnal at our backs," Karliah insisted. "If she is to accept you as one of her own, an arrangement must be struck."

"What sort of arrangement? I need to know the terms."

"The terms are quite simple, Brynjolf. Nocturnal will allow you to become a Nightingale, and to use your abilities for whatever you wish." Within reason, if Mercer was anything to go by. "In return, both in life and in death, you must serve as a guardian for the Twilight Sepulcher."

"Aye, there's always a catch. But at this point, I suppose there isn't much to lose. What do you think?"

Valkari folded her arms across her chest. "I'll take whatever oaths you need me to take if it means getting back at Mercer."

Karliah nodded approvingly. "Very well. After I open the gate, stand on the western circle. Brynjolf, you'll take the eastern circle."

She turned towards the gate and pulled the handle down, causing the bars to slide into the floor.

The final room was a large, circular cavern, with a large platform built out over an underground lake. The centre of the platform bore the Nightingale symbol, and three smaller platforms branched off from it. Valkari took the one to the far left, as Karliah instructed. Above her head there was a hole and she could see the twilit sky above her.

To her left, Karliah and Brynjolf took their positions, and Karliah lifted her hands before her.

"I call upon you Lady Nocturnal; Queen of Mirk, and Empress of Shadow. Hear my voice!" she cried.

For a moment, it seemed that nothing had happened. Then Valkari realised that the chamber had suddenly turned cold, and the air was rippling. An orb of shifting darkness appeared above the centre platform, swelling as a thick fog rolled across the chamber. Long shadows danced across the walls, and slivers of silver light skimmed across her body.

And then a voice spoke: "Ah Karliah. I was wondering when I would hear from you again. Lose something, did we?"

Karliah promptly threw herself to her knees, her head bowed in shame.

"My lady, I come before you to throw myself upon your mercy and to accept responsibility for my failure."

"You're already mine Karliah. Your terms were struck long ago. What could you possibly offer me now?" asked Nocturnal, sounding rather displeased.

"I have two others that wish to transact the oath; to serve you in both life and death."

"You surprise me Karliah. This offer is definitely weighted in _my_ favour."

"My appetite for Mercer's demise exceeds my craving for wealth, your Grace."

Nocturnal hummed, as though quite amused. "Revenge, is it? How interesting… Very well, the conditions are acceptable. You may proceed."

Karliah rose from her knees, lifting her fist across her heart.

"Lady Nocturnal, we accept your terms. We dedicate ourselves to you as both your avengers, and your sentinels. We will honour our agreement in this life, and the next, until your conditions have been met."

At that moment, the silver lights suddenly gathered into three columns, bathing Valkari, Karliah and Brynjolf in the light.

"Very well. I name you initiates Nightingale and I restore your status to the same, Karliah." She paused briefly, before adding in a displeased tone: "And in the future, I suggest you refrain from disappointing me again."

With a pop, the sphere vanished and the lights, shadows and fog disappeared with it. And yet, in spite of the exchange, Valkari felt no different than she had before. She was a Nightingale now though, Nocturnal herself had declared that. She stepped down onto the centre platform, wondering if she had really just given herself to a Daedric Prince. In both life and death.

Brynjolf patted Valkari’s shoulder, his face shrouded in shadow but she guessed that he felt the same as she did. Karliah seemed to have a slight spring in her step now, as she met them.

"Now that you've transacted the oath, it's time to reveal the final piece of the puzzle to you; Mercer's true crime."

"You mean when he defiled the Sepulcher?"

She nodded. "Mercer was unable to open the guild vault without two keys because of what he stole from the Twilight Sepulcher. The Skeleton Key. By doing this, he's compromised our ties to Nocturnal and, in essence, caused our luck to run dry."

"So this Key can unlock any door?" Valkari asked, thinking back to Snow Veil Sanctum.

"Well, yes. But the Key isn't restricted to only physical barriers. All of us possess untapped abilities; the potential to wield great power, securely sealed within our minds. Once you realise that the Key can access these traits, the potential becomes limitless."

That certainly explained how Mercer pulled off everything he did so flawlessly. Limitless potential, coupled with his twisted larceny? It was a bad combination for anyone that didn't hold the Key. And to think that Mercer had turned his back on everything, and even murdered one of his closest friends for it. Tried to kill her for it…

"It sounds like no one should have it," Valkari muttered.

"Good. Then you understand why this is about more than just Mercer's lust for power. If the Key isn't returned to its lock in the Twilight Sepulcher, things will never be the same for the guild. As time passed, our luck would diminish to the point of non-existence. And whether you know it or not, it's our uncanny luck that defines our trade."

Valkari scratched the back of her head thoughtfully. "First time I ever set out to return something."

Karliah giggled softly. "Very true. In our line of work, it's quite rare we set out to return a stolen item to its rightful owner."

"Let's go then." It was getting late, and every moment that slipped by, Mercer got a little further out of their reach.

[]

Irkngthand was a dwemer ruin in the far north, nestled away in the mountains south of Dawnstar. But to go to Dawnstar by carriage and then backtrack would consume time that they didn't have. So instead they stole horses from the Riften Stables and set off at a hard gallop. It could be days before they reached Irkngthand, but hopefully Mercer wouldn't be too far ahead of them. They drove the horses so hard, it was a surprise that they didn't kill them.

They finally hit snow within two days of continuous riding, and it was a few hours later that they came to the gates of the ruin entrance. To Valkari’s dismay, there was a large encampment of bandits waiting for us. Not what she was hoping to see, to be perfectly honest. The three of them left the horses out of sight of the ruin, and proceeded to climb the walls. The entrance to the ruin itself was high above the ground, reachable only by rickety wooden bridges that the bandits had made to connect the towers and various levels of the ruin.

Silently, they slipped along the walkways, remaining out of sight as they went. So far as the bandits knew, there was nothing out of the ordinary as they slipped inside.

But it was a very different story in the entrance hall.

A small camp of bandits waited inside, and all of them were dead. Blood was splattered across the walls and floor, and the fire was still going. Brynjolf tested one of the bodies.

"Still warm. He was here not long ago."

They were on his tail then. Good, even if it wasn't so lucky for the bandits.

Brynjolf took the lead and they moved on quickly, sticking to the shadows as they went. After all, dwemer ruins weren't known for being unoccupied.


	10. Depths of Revenge

‘Where is it?’ Valkari mouthed, jerking her head upward in the general direction of the falmer creeping about somewhere overhead. Karliah gestured to the top of the tower, and Valkari crept further along in the shadows created by the rocky overhang, bow readied.

Irkngthand was even larger, and more complex than she could have imagined. It was also crawling with falmer, beings that were once known as snow elves that were now better known as the evil, blind monstrosities that despised all life on the surface world. They were skinny, with pale white skin stretched so tightly that you could see all of their ribs, and skin grew over what had once been their eyes. They had sharp, dagger like teeth, long claws, and were most often hunched over. They were hideous and vile, so Valkari had no qualms about killing them.

She loosed her arrow and shot the falmer atop the tower straight through the back of its skull. It toppled backwards, falling down out of sight with a thud. No doubt any other falmer would hear that. Their blindness meant that their other senses were far sharper than any of ours. Skulking in the shadows accomplished little, unlike when avoiding the Chaurus and dwemer constructs.

On any other day, you’d never get Valkari in a dwemer ruin for these very reasons. Too dangerous, and their treasures just weren’t worth the risks. If not for the fact that they were chasing Mercer, Valkari wouldn’t even think that the Eyes were worth it. And at least they were certain he was here. They’d seen him already, though only from a distance and they hadn’t been able to reach him before he disappeared deeper into the ruins. It was frustrating, but they were on the right track at any rate.

Suddenly, the ground beneath Valkari’s feet shook and the tremor was followed shortly by a gargantuan crashing sound. She covered her ears as the noise reverberated off of the cavern walls. After a while, the shaking stopped and the noise died down back into silence.

“What in Shor’s name was that?” hissed Brynjolf.

No one answered, but they all knew the answer – Mercer.

But he had been ahead of them. Unless he had prepared something for them to discover. They pressed further through the cavern until they found the source of the noise. A tower had collapsed, blocking a sweeping staircase that led down through the ruin. Here and there, Valkari could see the odd limbs of falmer that had been crushed by the collapse. Karliah closer inspected the wreckage.

“Look at this,” she whispered, holding out one of the stones. There Valkari could see what appeared to be a now lifeless glyph. “Mercer must have laid this here as a trap. Be wary, there may be more.”

She didn’t need to be told twice.

“We need to find another way forward,” Brynjolf pointed out, glancing around. There was a nearby ramp that led to a door on a ledge above. “Let’s try up there.”

The door lead into yet another room, with a centurion head displayed high up on the wall. There didn’t seem to be any active automatons in here however, so that was fortunate.

But it seemed that their luck just wasn’t to last. Down another corridor and through another door, we came into yet another seemingly endless chamber. And standing in the centre of a plateau was a complete dwemer centurion that was quietly emitting steam.

“Be careful. That centurion is still very much active, and very deadly,” hissed Karliah.

“We can take the beast on, or we can sneak around. It’s your call wee lass, we’re right behind you,” added Brynjolf.

“Let’s avoid getting squashed, shall we?” Valkari suggested airily, surveying the room. It took her a moment to realise that this was the same room where they had seen Mercer before. She spied the bars around the platform they had entered through, and the door they had seen Mercer disappear through. “We need to get up there.”

Brynjolf and Karliah nodded and they proceeded to sneak their way past the falmer without setting off the centurion. It meant taking their time and going painfully slowly, but getting injured in fights wasn’t much of an option with their supplies being so limited down here. Brynjolf boosted Valkari up, and she grabbed the edge of the platform, hoisting herself up. Karliah and Brynjolf followed and they pressed deeper.

Mercer couldn’t be much further now.

[]

The falmer hive stank of rotting flesh and mildew, and the sheer numbers of them in here made fights near unavoidable. Usually an arrow was enough to silence them before any could raise the alarm, but the falmer weren’t called tenacious for nothing. They fought with everything they had, and their monstrous pets were hardly easy to beat down either. But sure enough, they got through the caverns and came to what had to be the last door. Just beyond, Valkari could hear a scratching noise – a chisel on stone.

Mercer.

She turned to Karliah and Brynjolf, her heart pounding painfully. She didn’t like the idea of meeting Mercer face-to-face again, considering what had happened last time, but this time around she wasn’t alone. And they were on equal footing, more or less.

They nodded back, drawing their weapons and Valkari eased the door open as quietly as she could manage before slipping through.

They emerged out on a ledge. The final chamber was circular, and taking up most of the space was a giant, golden statue of what could only be a Snow Elf. And prying out its Eyes, was Mercer. Dead falmer lay on the ground below, their blood mingling in the large pool of water Mercer had dumped them in.

“He hasn’t seen us yet,” Karliah whispered just as Mercer placed the Eyes into his pack on the floor. “Brynjolf, watch the door.”

“Aye lass, nothing’s getting by me.”

“Val, climb down that ledge. See if you can-“

“Karliah, Karliah. When will you learn that you can’t get the drop on me?”

There was a crack of magical energy, and suddenly the ledge split in two, sending Valkari crashing to the ground below. She threw out an arm and tumbled across the floor, saving herself from cracking her skull on the ground below.

She got to her feet, swaying slightly as she tried to focus again. She was dazed from the fall, but only momentarily.

Mercer was standing on a ledge above her, leering with disgust and resentment. Valkari readied her bow quickly, ready to fight.

“So, you failed to die properly did you?”

“Don’t want to admit you failed to kill a fifteen year old?” she retorted, and the look on his face grew uglier.

“I should have killed you years ago. When you were born, I could feel a sudden shift in the wind. Even back then, I knew it would end with one of us at the end of a blade,” he spat.

“Give me the Key, Mercer,” she demanded, “and maybe I’ll make it quick.”

“What’s Karliah been filling your head with?” He sneered. “Tales of thieves with honour? Oaths rife with falsehoods and broken promises? Nocturnal doesn’t care about you, the Key, or anything having to do with the guild.”

“This isn’t about Nocturnal. This is personal,” she growled.

“Ha, revenge is it? When will you open your eyes and realise how little my actions differ from your own? We both lie, steal and cheat to further our own ends.”

“I don’t kill people to do it! Least of all people I call friends!” Valkari yelled, temper boiling.

“It’s clear that you’ll never see the Skeleton Key as I do: an instrument of limitless wealth. Instead you’ve chosen to fall over your own foolish code!”

“If anyone’s falling today Mercer, it’s you.”

“Then the die is cast, and once again my blade will taste Nightingale blood!”

He cast his hand in the direction of Brynjolf and Karliah, but Valkari had no time to see what he had done before he charged her with unnatural speed. He swung his sword and she barely dodged out of the way in time, shooting her arrow.

It barely nicked his arm as he swung again. Valkari rolled back, skirting backwards as she readied another arrow whilst trying to dodge his blows. But as she readied to shoot, he slashed and her bow splintered in her hands, shattering into pieces.

Suddenly defenceless, she raced for the statue, Mercer at her heels. She leapt, pulling herself up onto the ledge and grabbed her sword from her hip, holding it ready. But Mercer was nowhere to be seen.

On the ledge, Valkari could see Brynjolf swinging his weapons uncontrollably at Karliah, who was doing all she could just to protect herself. Mercer’s doing. But where was he?

She heard the scuff of a boot too late – she sidestepped and the blade meant to cleave through her skull slashed down her right cheek instead, splitting the skin. 

She cried out in pain, dropping the sword. It clattered across the ground as Mercer reappeared. She scrambled back and tripping on her own feet and hitting the ground. Mercer reached down and grabbed her by the collar. A thin film of blood fell over her right eye and her cheek was in searing pain, but nothing frightened her more than his being so close again. Not even the fact that he was holding her over the ledge and suddenly, she realised how far the ground really was. 

“This time, I’m not giving you the chance to survive. If a blade won’t kill you, perhaps this will,” he sneered.

He let go. But Valkari wasn't unprepared. As she fell, she threw her arm up and slid something sharp out from her gauntlet. Mercer let out a roar of pain as the hooked dagger sunk into his wrist, dragging him down. It took all his might not to fall with her, as he fumbled in a vain attempt to remove the blade, but it was lodged deeply into his flesh. Blind with anger, he pulled Valkari back up, tossing her over his head. She went flying across the platform, her dagger coming free as he did so.

Valkari scrambled back to her feet, grabbing up her sword again before looking back to Mercer. He was clutching his bloody wrist and she could see that she had done considerable damage. As he went for his sword and dagger, it became evident that his thumb was no longer functional and he quickly abandoned the dagger in favour of the sword in his still-usable hand.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Valkari taunted. “I didn’t tear a tendon, did I?”

He let out a shriek of fury and threw himself at her, now down to one weapon. Injuries and anger made for sloppy mistakes that even a novice swordsman like Valkari could take advantage of them. She lifted the blade, parrying Mercer’s attack, tearing the sword from his hand and it went sailing through the air. Mercer stared after in horror, his eyes turning back to Valkari only just in time as she drove the blade right through his sternum and out the other side.

His eyes bulged in horror, his mouth agape as the realisation of what was happening struck him. Blood bubbled on his lips as he tried to speak, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“That’s for Gallus, you son of a bitch,” Valkari hissed.

“I… deserved… more!” He spat, before he finally went limp and she let him drop to the floor, pulling Gallus’ sword free from his chest.

But there was no time to celebrate.

The moment Mercer fell dead, there was a loud crack, all too like the one from when Mercer separated Valkari from Brynjolf and Karliah. Overhead, the pipes in the ceiling burst open, sending torrents of water crashing to the foot of the chamber, which promptly began to fill with water. The ceiling shook and there was a crash from beyond the door.

“This place is coming down!” yelled Karliah. “Grab the Key and the Eyes, and let’s get out of here!”

Valkari ripped open Mercer’s cuirass and found the Key in his inside pocket – it was bronze, with a round blue handle that was enscribed with runes - daedric most likely. It hummed softly in her palm, but she shoved it into her pack. She climbed to the top of the statue where Mercer had left his pack. Inside were the Eyes, each as large as a man’s head and flawlessly cut. The ultimate prize.

Valkari turned to re-join Karliah and Brynjolf, but to her horror, Brynjolf was pushing on the door to no avail.

“It’s no good lass. Something’s fallen down on the other side of this door because it isn’t moving! Val, stay right there, we’ll come to you!”

“We need to find a way out,” she shouted, all too aware of the rapidly rising water. But there were no hidden switches, or backdoors, or false panels this time. She ran her hands across the walls in vain as Brynjolf and Karliah reached her, both completely sodden.

The water was getting higher and higher, and would soon reach them. There had to be a way.

“There must be a door, or a passage, or something,” Valkari insisted, her voice becoming high with panic.

Brynjolf shook his head. “Wee lass… There isn’t another way out…” He said, his voice breaking ever so slightly. “It’s over.”

She shook my head adamantly. “No, we killed Mercer, we can’t die now. You don’t win just to die.”

He pulled her into his arms and hugged her like he’d never hug her again, as though he was trying to convey everything in this single gesture. And slowly, it really hit her.

There wasn’t a way out. This was it. They’d killed Mercer, but now they were going to die as well.

Valkari’s eyes burned as she buried her face into Brynjolf’s shoulder, her face still stinging and sticky with blood as the water washed over her feet. She felt a tentative hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Karliah standing there, her face strangely peaceful.

“We can do this two ways,” she said softly. “We can cry and let Mercer win, or we can look it in the eye and know that we killed him first.”

Valkari sniffed and nodded, pulling away from Brynjolf. Karliah smiled slightly, though it was far from a happy smile. It was sad and lost, and maybe even regretful.

“You should be proud Brynjolf,” she said suddenly. “You raised a fine thief.”

“And an even finer daughter,” he added quietly, squeezing Valkari’s shoulder.

“Shut it Pa,” she shot back, feeling her eyes burning even worse. “I’m as bad as the rest of you.”

They both laughed, Karliah running a hand through Valkari’s hair as the water rose ever higher. She had pictured the end differently, but Karliah had a point – there were worse ways to go. She had upped Mercer first, and that counted for something. But even so, now the Key was beyond the Sepulcher forever, and the guild would surely decline again without it.

"Your mother would be so proud of you," Brynjolf murmured as the water kept rising.

More pipes burst. Valkari was treading water as it came up to her chin now, desperately seeking to keep breathing just a while longer. Just a few more minutes. She nearly missed the cracking sound.

Then it happened all at once, as the ceiling above the statue’s head suddenly exploded, sending boulders falling into the nearly-filled chamber. The shockwaves caused Valkari to be forced down into the water, her lungs quickly flooding as her head began to spin. She felt around desperately for air, but her hands met only stone. The chamber was filled. She was going to drown.

She flailed helplessly, fumbling in a desperate search for air that wasn’t there.

Brynjolf, Karliah, where were they? Where had they gone?

Everything was growing cold and dark. Her head was pounding, but her heart was slowing. Shit…

[]

Her body felt heavy and numb, but she was warm. Warmer than she’d been in a long time. She could hear a fire crackling somewhere, and someone was playing a lute. There was a strong aroma of cooking food wafting in the air, and it made her stomach growl loudly. But she was too tired to get up.

People were whispering nearby. She knew those voices. She struggled to open her eyes. Everything was blurry and confusing. Too bright. This wasn’t Irkngthand… Had she been dreaming?

Suddenly, the whispering stopped and footsteps approached.

“Are you alright, wee lass?”

Valkari blinked a few times, and slowly it all came into focus. Brynjolf was crouching beside her. He was smiling, and no longer in his armour.

“Where…?” Her head was throbbing, and she had to focus to keep from passing out again.

“Easy there, wee lass. You had us worried.”

Karliah appeared at his side, and sat on the edge of the bed. “When the roof caved, it lead to a tunnel into Bronze Water Cave. But when you didn’t emerge, Brynjolf went back for you. Naturally.”

He smiled. “You’re not implying I have a heart, are you?”

“No. I’m implying you’re soft.”

Valkari giggled as Brynjolf groaned. “Why does everyone say that?”

“Because you _are_ soft, Pa. Where are we?” she asked.

“The Nightgate Inn,” said Karliah. “We’re across the lake that lies above Irkngthand. And we have the Eyes, as well as the Key.”

Valkari touched a hand to her face, and winced.

“That’s where Mercer got you,” said Karliah. “It’s probably going to scar.”

She could live with scars. It was better than being dead, after all. “So now what?”

“For now, you need rest my wee lass,” Brynjolf said firmly. “You nearly drowned.”

She wanted to argue back, but her head was starting to spin again. She supposed it could wait. The whole world could wait for a while, just until she was back up to speed. She lay back down in the bed again and passed out almost instantly.


	11. Darkness Returns

The Twilight Sepulcher lay in the far reaches of Falkreath Hold, hidden away by the forests and crags that most travellers dared not near. And those who did try to seek their fortune, should they stumble upon the means to enter the Sepulcher, usually found a gruesome fate awaiting them inside. Yet now, Valkari was the one having to enter the temple and brave the trials of the Pilgrim’s Path if she wanted to have any hope of reversing the damage that Mercer had done.

She was alone in this journey. Brynjolf had returned to Riften to restore order to the guild, and to assure them of their success and Mercer’s demise. Karliah, shamed by her failures, dared not set foot in the temple until the Key had been returned. And so the task fell to Valkari, and Valkari alone. 

Not that she minded too much. It felt like the worst was over now, and that this one task couldn’t be much more difficult than Irkngthand, even without having the slightest clue what to expect inside. After all, when a thief didn’t have a plan, improvising was the next best thing. And besides, she felt much better now that she had a new bow on hand – it was Karliah’s, and she decided it was only fitting that Valkari have it, after all she had done to stop Mercer.

From what Karliah had told her, the only indication of the Sepulcher’s location was the pair of braziers by the cliff wall in a narrow pass that was almost completely invisible. Only by saying the passphrase could one enter, so usually only those seeking it would be able to find it.

Valkari stopped by the braziers that Karliah had described and bowed her head.

“Eyes open, and walk with the shadows,” she murmured.

The braziers promptly burst into life with black flames and when she looked up, the entrance had appeared. Valkari pushed the door open and stepped inside. She came into a long, flag-stoned chamber lined with more black-flame braziers. A flight of stairs led upwards into what she presumed was the Pilgrim’s Path. And standing at the foot of them, was a ghostly figure in Nightingale armour. That had to be one of the Sentinels that Karliah had told her about.

Valkari strode down the hall towards the Sentinel, who looked up at her approach.

“I don’t recognise you, but I can sense you’re one of us,” he said, tilting his head to one side. “Who are you?”

“My name is Valkari,” she replied. “And you are?”

“The last of the Nightingale Sentinels, I’m afraid. I’ve defended the Sepulcher alone for what seems like an eternity.”

“But what about the rest? What happened to them?”

He heaved a sigh. “We were betrayed by one of our own kind. In fact… I am to blame for what has happened here.”

“And how do you figure that?”

“I was blinded. Blinded by dark treachery masquerading as friendship,” he explained bitterly, shaking his head. “Perhaps if I had been more vigilant, Mercer Frey wouldn’t have lured me to my fate and stolen the Skeleton Key…”

Mercer lured him to his fate…? But that could only mean!

“You’re Gallus!” she cried, clicking her fingers.

Of course, it only made sense. Nightingales came to the Sepulcher after they died in order to protect it until their contract was fulfilled. But never in her wildest dreams, did Valkari ever think that she would ever actually meet Gallus.

And he seemed rather stunned, as he said: “I haven’t heard that name in a very long time… How do you know of me?”

She reached into her pack and pulled out the Skeleton Key.

“The Key!” He cried joyously. “You have the Skeleton Key! I never thought I’d see it again! And Mercer Frey?”

“Dead.” And good riddance.

“Then… It’s over. And my death wasn’t in vain. I owe you a great deal, Valkari.”

She shrugged. “I did this for the guild.”

“And I’m sure they appreciate everything you’ve done, even if they won’t say it. My only regret is that you had to undertake this task alone,” he said sombrely. “Especially for one so young and vibrant.”

“I wasn’t alone. I had Karliah and Brynjolf with me.”

“Karliah? She’s still alive!” He exclaimed. “I feared she had befallen the same fate, ending up a victim of Mercer’s betrayal.”

Valkari held out the Key. “Then take it, and right all the wrongs.”

But he didn’t take it. “Nothing would bring me greater pride than to return the Key, but I’m afraid it’s impossible. Ever since I first arrived here, I’ve felt myself… Well… Dying…”

Valkari cocked her head to one side. “How does a ghost die?”

“The Sepulcher isn’t merely a temple, or a vault to house the Key. Within these walls is the Ebonmere, a conduit to Nocturnal’s realm of Evergloam. When Mercer stole the Key, that conduit closed, severely limiting our ties to her.”

“So I am all alone in this… Great.”

“I’m afraid so. I’m weakening, and I can feel myself slipping away. Years without restoration of my power have taken their toll. Whatever damage has been caused can only be corrected by following the Pilgrim’s Path to the Ebonmere and replacing the Key.”

Valkari sighed, but nodded anyway. She’d accepted before that she’d be doing this alone. It was time to get this over with, if only to get things back to normal. A nice, profitable normal.

[TG]

Valkari left Gallus behind in the entrance hall and started up the Pilgrim’s Path with only scant information on what lay ahead. He himself had no idea what lay beyond, having been confined to the entrance hall from the moment of his death, but he had pointed out the remains of a fellow who had been trying to accomplish the same task and had obviously failed. Amongst the bones, she found a journal. It indicated that there would be four trials for her to complete in order to reach the Inner Sanctum:

_ Shadows of their former selves, sentinels of the dark. They wander ever more and deal swift death to defilers. _

The first was easy – it referred to the Nightingales that had come before. The rest she’d figure out along the way when I came to each trial.

As Valkari traversed the corridors, she kept low in the shadows until she saw the first of them.

This Sentinel had clearly been an argonian, if the tail and snout were anything to go by. Like Gallus, it was translucent, but there was something wrong with this one. Instead of a pearly white outline, it was dark and smoky, and not altogether stable as its outline flickered and distorted. It turned its head.

“Does someone live among the dead?” It hissed. Valkari remained perfectly still, praying it couldn’t sense her. In time, it gave up and moved past Valkari’s hiding spot, allowing her to slip through unnoticed. There were more Sentinels prowling the next chamber, and getting past them was all about timing. Besides, how could you kill what was already dead?

Thankfully, they seemed to maintain the senses of mortals and so long as she stayed silent and out of sight, they never even realised she’d had been there in the first place.

[TG]

_ Above all they stand, vigilance everlasting. Beholden to the murk yet contentious of the glow. _

The second task had given Valkari more to think about before she reached the chamber – beholden to the murk yet contentious of the glow? It had made no sense, until she saw it for herself.

This room was pitch black, save for the pools of light cast by braziers of white fire that burned like the sun itself. Of course, it made sense now. Remain in the shadows, and do not wander into the light. That was easy… Perhaps a little too easy.

As Valkari moved through the darkness, she kept a sharp eye out for potential dangers, such as more Sentinels or traps. Thus it was reasonably embarrassing that she very nearly walked right into a trip wire. Recovering from her surprise of nearly having triggered exactly what she had been looking to avoid, she stepped back, took a long breath, and carried on. She had to be more careful than that, or else this would end badly.

Across rickety bridges and around tight corners, Valkari soon found herself on the opposite side of the chamber. She breathed a sigh of relief and pushed the doors open. Onto the next trial.

[TG]

_ Offer what She desires most, but reject the material. For her greatest want is that which cannot be seen, felt or carried. _

The next task also became clear when Valkari saw what was laid before her. A statue of Nocturnal, with a nightingale bird on each wrist, stood at the end of a small corridor. On either side of her, two braziers burned brightly. At her feet, lay a long-dead bandit and a small heap of coins.

Well if Nocturnal didn’t want them, Valkari certainly did. She pocketed the gold before turning to inspect the braziers. Concealed behind each of them was a small switch – Valkari pressed the first and immediately the fire went out. She did the same for the second, plunging the corridor into perfect darkness. There was a scraping of stone on stone, and another passageway was revealed behind the statue.

[TG]

_ Direct and yet indirect. The path to salvation a route of cunning with fortune betraying the foolish. _

The final trial was very straight forward. Valkari could see as she crept down the hall that the adjacent chambers were brimming with treasures. Treasures that were under fierce guard by the Sentinels. Those who gave into temptation would be cut down and would perish, whereas those who remained focused on the path before them would be led straight where they wanted to go.

Of course there were traps, and Valkari narrowly escaped having her ribs caved in by a battering ram when she pushed open a door. Once it had lifted back into the ceiling, she hurried through to what should be the final door – the one leading directly into the Inner Sanctum itself.

[TG]

_ The journey is complete, the Empress's embrace awaits the fallen. Hesitate not if you wish to gift her your eternal devotion. _

The Inner Sanctum was eerie and silent, with faint slivers of mist brushing against her skin as she walked. The walls were decorated with carvings and daedric symbols, and statues of strange creatures were lined along the walls. It felt like time was not a concept that existed here, and that a moment could pass whilst a lifetime went by outside. It made her skin crawl.

On Valkari went, until she reached the very end of the corridor, and all she found was an archway leading to a steep drop, down into a pit below. She could see human bones from here. She took comfort in the fact that, should something go wrong, she had the tools to climb back up again. And with that knowledge in hand, she leapt.

Her knees buckled slightly when she hit the ground, but she remained crouched where she was for a few moments. There was no sign of a place for the Key. Had she gone wrong somewhere? Perhaps she’d interpreted that last trial incorrectly?

Rather than lose her head, Valkari tried to rationalise. She had resisted the temptation of the treasures presented to her, as the riddle had said. The only logical answer was that something had yet to happen.

Just as she thought this, the ground beneath her vanished and suddenly, she was plummeting to the ground below. Valkari landed hard on my back, the wind leaving her for a few moments as she rubbed her head. Slowly she got to her feet. She’d done it – this had to be the Inner Sanctum.

There were deep channels in the floor, each connecting an empty stone archway and a circular groove in the floor. And right in the centre of the circle was a keyhole. Valkari pulled the Key out from her pocket, inserted it into the lock and turned it before stepping back.

The Key sunk into the floor and three stone tiers rose, ringed with sharp spires. As they rose, a pure black liquid filled the new basin and overflowed, filling the channels on the floor and suddenly, a pitch black veil fluttered in each of the once-empty archways. And Karliah stepped through one, beaming.

“You did it,” she breathed. “Look.”

There was a disturbance in the centre of the newly re-opened Ebonmere and a flurry of black birds appeared, heralding the arrival of a tall woman in a dark robe with nightingales perched on each wrist.

And Nocturnal spoke to them: “My, my. What do we have here? It’s been a number of years since I set foot on your world. Or perhaps it’s been moments. One tends to lose track.”

Immediately, as though commanded by instinct, Karliah and Valkari knelt before Nocturnal, heads bowed as she stepped out from the basin.

“So, once again the Key has been stolen, and a champion returns it to the Sepulcher,” she mused. She took Valkari’s chin in her long, cold fingers and tilted her head up to look at her. “Now that the Ebonmere has been restored, you stand before me, awaiting your accolades. A pat on your head. A kiss on your cheek. What you fail to realise is that your actions were expected, and represent nothing more than the fulfilment of our agreement.”

Valkari wanted to frown, but even she knew better than to talk back to a Daedric Prince of all things, so she held her tongue. And clearly Nocturnal noticed, as she withdrew her hand and turned to step back towards the Ebonmere.

“Don’t mistake my tone for displeasure. After all, you’ve obediently performed your duties to the letter. But we both know that this has little to do with honour, and oaths, and loyalty. It’s about the reward; the prize. Fear not. You’ll have your trinkets, your desire for power, your hunger for wealth.” She stood to one side, casting a hand over the basin. Something dark flew out and draped itself across her hand. “Take this as your prize, Valkari, and may it serve your needs.”

She draped what appeared to be a long black cloak over Valkari’s shoulders, the one she was already wearing seeming to vanish.

“The Shadowcloak of Nocturnal is not a gift I give idly. I bid you to drink deeply from the Ebonmere, mortal. For this is where the Agent of Nocturnal is born. The oath has been struck, the die has been cast, and your fate awaits you in the Evergloam.”

Valkari watched as she stepped back into the basin, and she turned to smile wryly.

“Farewell, Nightingales. See to it that the Key stays this time, won’t you?”

And with that, she was gone. Karliah and Valkari got to their feet again, staring for a moment at the Ebonmere. What had Nocturnal meant, to drink deeply from it?

“I’m glad you were able to bring the Key back safely,” said Karliah. “Nocturnal seemed quite pleased with your efforts. But to reward you with her Shadowcloak.”

She eyed it enviously, but Valkari merely felt confused. It looked no different to the old one.

“What does it do?” she asked.

“When you will it, it will grant you the gift of invisibility. There is no other cloak like it – even spells of detection fail to recognise it,” she explained. “Simply will it, and it shall happen.”

Now that was useful, and something she’d definitely have to experiment with later. But for now, there was one other matter.

“What’s this about drinking from the Ebonmere?”

Karliah simply beckoned her to follow.

“The Ebonmere keeps us tied to Nocturnal, both in this life and the next. To truly become an Agent under her name, you must complete your initiation and drink from the Ebonmere.”

Of course.

Valkari cupped her hands and lowered them into the basin, drawing out the black liquid and lifting it to her lips. It tasted of nothing, being less than vapour as it passed her lips. But something new surged through her; power coursed through her body, from her lips to her fingertips.

It was done, and her life as a Nightingale had truly begun.


End file.
